Sweet Revenge
by calliecolors
Summary: What if Michonne didn't kill the Governor at the end of episode 8? More than anything in the world Beth wants to kill the man that brutally murdered her father, and who better to dish out some vigilante justice than Daryl Dixon? The pair team up, and things begin to develop between them. BETHYL AU - mature audiences only as their will be explicit smut :P
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**MAJOR appreciation to wonderful beta-readers **Suz Singer, Rubiredslippers, Darkskiesandprettylies, and EmElleAre55 who took time to read this chapter and send me edits.

…

Beth knew she should feel something about her daddy getting murdered right in front of her. So far, all she felt was numb. She had no idea if she would ever see her sister again, or if Maggie was even alive. For all Beth knew – Maggie, Glenn, Carol, Rick, Michonne, Carl, the baby, and all of the others were dead.

The only reason she was still breathing was because of the man walking two paces in front of her. As if her eyes were burning a hole in his back – right between the wings – Daryl Dixon turned to look at her.

Right now he was still _Healthy Prison _Daryl, his clothes were relatively clean - albeit the blood, his hair was trimmed, but not so far that it didn't skirt playfully over his eyes, and he was only sporting a two-day beard. She had seen _Forest Survival_ Daryl once before, after they lost the farm, and she suspected she'd be seeing him again in the very near future.

She knew him well enough to be able to read the emotion written in his expression. Anger. Despair. Grief. No fear, of course. She couldn't remember ever seeing the crossbow wielding walker-killer express fear. Sadness maybe – sorrow even – but _never_ fear. She'd seen him angry plenty of times, and she'd seen him self-loath on more than one occasion, but as far as she knew Daryl wasn't afraid of anything.

He was quiet now, clearly perturbed. Whatever he was thinking – he wasn't sharing it with her – not verbally at least. But she could tell by his tense shoulders, and the way he was stomping through the brush that he wasn't happy. He hadn't said a word since he told her they were at a safe distance to slow down a bit. She was grateful for the reprieve. The back of her knees ached, and her arm was sore from firing the gun so many times. "Ya all right?" He asked her.

_No_, she wanted to say, but instead she gave him a stiff nod, crossing her arms over her chest. Beth wasn't ready to talk about it yet. He turned forward again but – after a minute – she noticed he'd slowed down even more. She couldn't help wondering if he was getting tired himself, or slowing down for her. She guessed the later was probably true. He didn't look very tired, just pissed. She wished she had his stamina, but she'd been inside the prison for a long time, and her body was feeling the effects of the mad dash away from the prison, and all the walking they'd done since.

Beth didn't know where the archer was leading her and she realized - with a small shock - that she didn't care. She knew she should be freaking out about Maggie. Heck, she should have insisted they turn around and go back for Maggie. But if her sister, and the others, had survived the Governor's attack on the prison, they would have run just like Beth and Daryl had. They would have been smart enough not to stick around, with walkers overrunning the place.

To distract herself from thoughts of Maggie's demise, she did an inventory of what she had on her body. The only clothes she had were the ones she was wearing when they'd high-tailed it out of the prison, and they were covered in sweat, dirt and blood. Beth never took her bracelets off, so she still had those. She had the bug-out-bag that Daryl had the good judgment to scoop up on their way out, and tucked into the bag was the crow-bar she'd armed herself with back at the prison. She'd stopped to wipe the blood and brains off the make-shift weapon after her last walker kill. Just before the attack someone – Daryl maybe – had given her a hand-gun, and she held it in her right hand. She looked down at the gun, and was almost surprised to see the glint of metal under her fingers. She'd been holding the firearm for so long that it felt like it had become a part of her, an extension of her own blood and bone. Even though they hadn't seen a walker in hours, Beth was still grasping the weapon with the anticipation of another run-in.

She decided she liked the feeling of the heavy, cold metal under her palm. It was a safe feeling. Beth had long ago lost touch with the things that used to make her feel safe. Things like her mama running her fingers through her hair while humming Beth's favorite gospel hymns, the farmhouse that she was born in, and how it had always seemed like an impenetrable fortress to her. But nothing felt safe like knowing that her daddy was asleep in the next room. Now the things that made her feel safe were almost non-existent. She could count 'em on one hand. One, the gun. Two, Daryl. Three, …she stopped herself. There was no three.

Walking in silence behind Daryl, she began to grasp something she hadn't before the attack. She realized that the gun _did_ actually make her powerful, at least in a sense. It meant it didn't matter that she was small, scrawny, and barely an adult. She could still be deadly. _Like Carl_, she thought to herself. Hewas younger than her by several years, yet he had become a formidable member of the group. They counted on Carl because he could shoot.He was proficient with his gun, and he wasn't afraid to use it.Beth laughed bitterly at her naïve line of thinking. It was stupid to think the gun gave her power. With a gun, she could be powerful. But it wasn't too difficult to knock that gun out of her hand. And then she was powerless again.

For some reason, thinking of Carl caused a memory to flash in her mind. _Michonne's sword glistening in the sun-light as the Governor swept it in a downward arc connecting with her daddy's neck._ She saw the act repeated over and over again in slow motion, which was worse than how it happened in real life.

The memory made something snap inside Beth. A completely unexpected wave of intense anger surged through her veins, and it was all she could do to keep one foot in front of the other. She gasped involuntarily, unable to hold in the pulsating rage threatening to clench up all her muscles.

Hearing her intake of breath, Daryl spun around, bringing his bow up instantly. His eyes took her in before he squinted, checking the woods behind, and around her. She reached out, putting her hand on a tree for support and doubled over.

There were no tears. Only stars dancing behind her eyelids and a hollow ache inside her gut like she'd been kicked by a horse. Rather than sorrow, she associated the pain with fury. Beth knew utter and total wretchedness. She had felt that before over and over again. Before she had wanted nothing more than to give up and die. This wasn't the same type of feeling. This wasn't grief, or at least not any kind of grief she had ever experienced, and she'd been through the ringer a few times; her friends and neighbors, mama dying and comin' back, Jimmy, Patricia, Zack, and now maybe everyone else – except Daryl.

It wasn't right. Daddy was good and he died. The Governor was evil, and he was still breathing. "Beth?" A husky voice drew her from her revelry. Beth rose up, and met Daryl's eyes. He was looking at her with obvious concern. "Ya need a break, girl?"

She felt like the earth was swirling around her feet, but somehow Daryl's electric blue eyes anchored her in place. "Daryl," she choked out, reaching for him.

He took two strides before he was next to her, putting his arms protectively around her. She let him shift her weight off the tree and onto him instead. She laid her head on his chest, grateful for this rare gesture of comfort from him – knowing it wasn't easy for him. "Daryl, did ya see what he did to…to my…?" She couldn't finish. She couldn't quite say the word 'daddy.' Not yet. Not out loud.

Daryl's grunt told her he understood what she meant without her having to say it. "I saw it." He said, his chest vibrating against her cheek as he spoke. She felt the weight of his chin on top of her head, and he stroked her hair softly probably waiting for her to cry. Hadn't she told him that she didn't cry anymore?

They stood like that for a moment, and she imagined them drawing strength from one another. He'd held her like this before, so it wasn't a first for them, but something was different this time. She felt a fierce tidal wave of affection towards the archer. Simultaneously she had an irresistible longing not to lose him. Not him. Daryl was the only familiar thing left in the wild world she found herself surviving in. He was her anchor to normalcy, her northern star – and he blazed brightly, just like a star. Daryl had always been the group's guardian angel, had always made her feel safe. There was a bible verse that had always reminded her of Daryl:

"_I know all the things you do. I have seen your love, your faith, your service, and your patient endurance. And I can see your constant improvement in all these things_." Revelation 2:19

"Sit down." Daryl said, helping her down to the ground. She put her back to the tree and watched him check the forest around them again, before he pulled the crossbow off his shoulder and propped it beside her, within arm's reach – always within arm's reach. If anyone needed to worry about wearing their weapon so long that it became a part of them, it was Daryl.

He squatted next to her with one knee propped up, his forearm resting on it. He was worrying his bottom lip into a thin line like he did when he was contemplating something really hard. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought.

Beth's rage wasn't going anywhere. Beneath the lighter thoughts of Daryl was the remembrance of her father's murder. She sat and silently stewed. She couldn't remember ever being so consumed by her own anger before. It felt like her blood was boiling. She wanted to lash out. Kick something. Hit something. Kill something. '_Where's a walker when you need one?'_

"Figure we'll get some rest t'night. Loop back around ta the prison in the mornin'. See if we can catch up with some uh the others." Daryl said, breaking the silence. He picked up a twig, and started rolling it around between his index and thumb fingers. She could feel his restlessness. He was uncomfortable with what he took to be her grieving. He stood up again, quickly as he sat, and whipped the crossbow into place on his back.

She thought about what he was proposing. Finding the others._ If the others survived_, she thought. Even if they did, they could never go home again. Not with that mass-murderer alive and knowing the prison's location. Not with all the walkers the battle had drawn in. Between the walkers and men like the Governor roaming about, could they ever really be safe? Would they always be on the run? "I can't look for them right now." She said, catching herself off guard by her own statement, having only just realized she'd made a decision.

He cocked his head at her, and frowned. "Watcha mean?"

"What's the point in finding them if we're always running for our lives? Nowhere is gonna be safe as long as the Governor has this vendetta against our group. Don't ya think we have enough to worry about with the dead walking around? Daryl," she paused, taking a deep breath, "I need your help."

His eyebrows crunched inward even further and the wiry muscles in his arm flexed as he adjusted a bit. "Shit Beth jus' tell me watcha need. Anything." She couldn't help glancing up from her dirty hands – her right one still clutching the gun - to meet those sizzling blue eyes. His tone was soft, comforting. He probably thought she was acting crazy because she was overwhelmed with grief or in shock or something. But this wasn't about grief – it was about preserving good and destroying evil. Wasn't it her responsibility, now, to ensure that what happened to her daddy didn't ever happen to anyone else? And wasn't Daryl the most likely out of the entire group to be able to dish out some vigilante justice? Except for Michonne, and where she had failed, Beth thought Daryl would succeed, because he wouldn't have to do it alone, he'd have her. Now that she was thinking about it, it almost seemed as if the task she was about to suggest was sanctioned by heaven itself with the two of them coming together like they had. She almost smiled as the image of the wings on Daryl's back came to mind.

He raised his eyebrows. "I want -" she started, but then she knew she had to word it right. _Want_ was not a strong enough word to describe the burning longing she felt for retribution, to even the scales. "I _need_ to kill the Governor."

His eyes widened, and he rocked back on his heels with a low whistle. "Wasn't 'specting you t' say that."

She swallowed. "Will you help me Daryl? For my father."

"Girl, you must be more tired than I thought. Stupid notions like that'll get you killed. 'Sides Governor's long gone."

"It doesn't matter." She pushed up off the ground trying to stand, but was forced to lean against the tree as a she got dizzy from standing so fast. "You're a hunter, right? An _expert _tracker? If anyone can find him, you can." She brushed her hands on her pants.

"Aint happening, Beth." He said, his eyes cutting over her shoulder toward the forest behind her.

She felt the anger surging through her again and she used it, spitting back. " _You_ said '_anything_' remember?"

He held his hands out, palms up, "How's I s'posed to know you been thinking 'bout revenge all this time we been walking. I thought you might need a hug or something." He toed around in the dirt, avoiding her eyes.

"A hug?"

He shrugged. "You're a girl aint ya?" When he saw her shocked expression, he continued. "Shit Beth, I know no hug is gonna fix it. Aint nothing gonna fix what you seen but time. Never should uh seen it." He turned away from her, and in his profile she could see his jaw muscles working.

She tensed, jumping on the opportunity she saw. "You know what, Daryl. I don't believe good people can survive in this world anymore. I saw that man…m…murder my father in cold blood. My daddy was a good man. He didn't deserve to be butchered like…" she stopped herself fearing she really was about to cry. "I see the truth now, Daryl. There are two kinds of people can survive in this world" she held up two fingers on her left hand. "There are the ones that are bad. They're bad 'cause they do what has to be done to survive - even if it's wrong. Then there are truly evil people who enjoy doin' wrong. We got a responsibility, Daryl, don't you see?" He looked back at her as she said his name. The torment she felt was mirrored in his eyes. Daryl and her father hadn't been close – not like daddy and Rick had - but she knew they trusted and respected each other, and in the zombie apocalypse that was all you could hope for from the people you kept close. Her father's death – and the loss of their home and group - was burdening the archer's soul whether he wanted to admit it or not because it was reflected in his agonized eyes.

Daryl shook his head, and put his hands on his hips. "No. Yer daddy didn't deserve that, 'course he didn't. But you really want t' go gunning for the Governor, Beth? Aint gonna bring Herschel back. Aint what he'd want for you neither." He spoke the last part so quietly she could barely hear him.

"I know."

He started again before she could say anything more. "Governor's no walker. He's a living breathing asshole an' he aint gonna die easy, else someone would uh done it already."

"I know that too." She remembered something and felt it was worth mentioning for the sake of the argument. "Michonne_ did_ put his eye out though."

He scoffed. "No offense, but you aint no Michonne."

"You think I don't know that? But he's not invincible, Daryl. He's just flesh and blood, like you and me, and he _can_ be killed. You're as good as Michonne." She threw out her hand toward him, "Maybe even better. _You_ could teach me. We could be partners, at least until he's dead. Then if you wanna go off on your own, I'll understand." She said a silent prayer that he wouldn't take her up on that last part.

He considered her words for a moment. His oily black hair dusted his lightning blue eyes. For the first time she noticed that his naked shoulders were splattered with dry blood. She could see him biting his bottom lip and she knew what she'd said had struck some kinda chord with him. Was it possible? Could they find the Governor? Could Daryl teach her how to track? Would he help her hunt and kill a man?

Before answering her he looked around them checking the woods again, probably buying himself some time to think. She waited patiently being accustomed to Daryl's tendency to mull over an answer for so long that you might have forgotten what you asked him before he finally gave a response. Surprisingly, he didn't take too long this time. "You best sleep on this, Beth" was all he said.

She considered his advice. Would she feel the same zealous drive to cut out the Governor's heart when the sun rose tomorrow morning? She felt pretty sure she would. But she also recognized the wisdom in what the archer was saying. If she wanted to survive long enough to kill the Governor, she was going to have to learn not to make rash decisions. Rushing into stuff was stupid and she'd seen good people get killed that way. "All right," She conceded. Then she had a thought. "What if it rains tonight? Will ya still be able to track him?"

He looked up at the sky. "Aint gonna rain." He pointed north. "There's a cabin up the way. Found it on a run. We'll track up there. Head out in the morning."

She nodded, and gestured for him to lead the way.

….

_Thank you – in advance – for taking time to read my story. If you feel like leaving me a review, I would love to hear from you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**MAJOR appreciation to wonderful beta-reader **EmElleAre55 who took time to read this chapter and send me edits.

**Chapter 2**

The "cabin" turned out to be more like a shack. It had seen better days, but Beth didn't care. She was so hungry, and bone-weary that she would have slept in Rick's pig-pen. Daryl dragged the rotting corpse of a twice-dead man out of the shack, and they propped open the door to help clear out the smell.

The first thing they did, after clearing the shack, was an inventory of the bug-out-bag. The only food was two cans of fruit salad, and a can of Vienna sausages. Inside a zip-lock bag were five saltine crackers and a handful of dry cereal. The best food item was a small unopened jar of peanut butter. Beth couldn't help squealing a little when Daryl drew the peanut butter out of the bag.

There were also some handy non-food items; two bottles of water, a rolled up quilt, a book of matches, a knife and a fork, a tin mug, a small first-aid kit, a flashlight, a roll of TP, and a light wind-breaker jacket stuffed inside the bag. The last item Daryl pulled out was a knife that – when extended – was about the length of her forearm from wrist to inner elbow. "Good knife for skinning animals," Daryl noted, handing it to her, "You should trade the crowbar you been using for this."

Beth took the knife, staring down at it. The handle was black, and the blade had a pointed spear-tip and a strange looking curve to the top of it. She weighed it in her hand. It was a little heavier than the knife she'd left back at the prison, but it would do for the purpose she knew she would have to use it for. She shut it, and stowed it in her back-pocket, giving him a nod of thanks. He nodded back.

He picked his crossbow up off the small table where their meager belongings were spread out. "Gotta hunt. This junks only gonna get us through a day, maybe two if we're careful."

Beth frowned. "It's almost night time." He tensed a little as she touched his arm, and she pulled her hand away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"There's light left. Don' wanna waste it. Lock the door behind me." He said, stepping out from under her touch. He slung the crossbow over his shoulder, and crossed the room to the open door. He was outlined in the door frame, the last hints of daylight casting him in shadow. The sun was starting to set. The sky was dark blue but transitioning to bright pink on the horizon, where the tree-tops touched. Beth felt a twinge of anxiety in her stomach about Daryl going off to hunt when it would be dark soon. But she told herself the man had proven countless times that he could take care of himself. Beth took one last look at the wings on his back before shutting, and locking, the door behind him.

There was a wood crate sitting next to the wood-burning stove. Inside she found tinder, kindling, and some larger pieces of wood.

She took a bunch of small twigs out of the box and built a tepee of kindling inside the stove. Next she used dried grass, from the fire-box, and formed it into a rough nest shape. She stuck the tinder bundle under the twig tepee, and using the matches from the bug-out-bag, she lit it. She quickly started adding more twigs to the flame, until she had a strong blaze. Next, she took some of the smaller chunks of wood and put those in, gradually working up to two large pieces, which she laid on top, before she was satisfied with the fire.

After a minute or two the smell of smoke filled the one-room shack, helping to dissipate the unpleasant odor.

They'd stripped off the rotting mattress and covered the box-springs with pine needles. She covered the pine needles with the quilt, and sat down on the bed, smoothing out the covers beside her. The pine needles didn't provide very much padding, but at least they improved the smell. She yawned, and her eyelids drooped lazily. Refusing to fall asleep while Daryl was out hunting, she forced herself upright.

It seemed like hours later, Beth was wearing a trail in the cabin floor out of worry, when she heard a whistle outside, and she ran to unlock the door. Daryl stalked inside, a medium sized snake hanging over his left shoulder. "Almost stepped on the fucker," he said gruffly. He put the crossbow, and the dead snake on the table and went over to the stove, kneeling down in front of it. "Not bad" he said, nodding at the fire.

"Thanks," Beth replied, unable to contain her smile. "I learned from the best."

"Damn straight. Now you're gonna learn how ta dress a snake. Come 'ere."

Beth walked over next to him, and watched as he cleared a space on the table, and retrieved his knife off his belt. First he cut the serpent's head off. Next, he turned it inside out, stripping off the skin in a single tubular piece. "It'll hold water." He explained, setting the skin aside. Next, he cleaned out the body cavity, removing the guts. Then he cut the remaining pink and white flesh into finger sized portions.

They shared a can of fruit salad while the snake cooked. Daryl was sitting on the floor by the fire, his back against the table. His boots extended outward, legs crossed. The crossbow was lying, within reach, on the floor next to him. He looked as tired as she felt. There were graying bags under his eyes. After the battle at the prison, they'd run and walked most of the day, and he'd been out hunting for at least an hour. She knew they would sleep better with full stomachs. If they could stay awake until the snake was edible. She didn't realize she was staring at him until he looked over at her. At first, she felt like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but then Daryl simply stared back at her, his blue eyes piercing into her own.

Beth felt something unspoken pass between them. The longer the intense gaze lingered, the more tension she felt, and the more tension she felt, the more she wanted to ask him what he could possibly be thinking about while he was looking at her that way. _If only I were a mind-reader_, she thought. Just as she thought it, he broke eye contact, and went back to staring at the fire. "Would ya mind sleeping over here with me tonight?" She blurted out, surprising herself for working up the nerve to ask him. It was definitely easier to say when he wasn't giving her smoky looks that made her belly flutter, and her heart pound in her chest.

He looked sharply over at her, and she could tell by the look on his face that she'd shocked him. "Why?" He asked, sounding more disgusted than curious.

She didn't want to beg him. She figured she could pretend to be scared, but she would be damned if he agreed to share the bed out of pity. She shrugged, trying to come off as casual. "Figured you'd be more comfy, that's all."

He grunted skeptically, but didn't reply. She took his lack of argument as her cue to continue. "I don't bite, Daryl. Besides," she added, "the better we sleep tonight, the more energy we'll have for tracking down that bastard tomorrow."

He openly flinched at her cursing. Her daddy had raised her to speak like a lady, so she didn't curse very often. "Dammit,' I aint agreed to that" he exclaimed. He shook his head, and dropped the empty fruit salad can on the floor. Standing up, he wiped his hands on his pants, and went over to the fire.

Using his knife he turned the snake meat over. Juice sizzled over the open flame, and her mouth watered as the aroma of cooking meat wafted over to where she sat. Beth had been a vegetarian her whole life, until the outbreak. Now her body craved the protein too much to ignore it. It wasn't like she could order a soy-burger, or pop a couple veggie rolls in the microwave. Meat was essential now.

Looking at the thin line of Daryl's lips, she realized she shouldn't have brought up tracking down the Governor. He was obviously still sore about it. She knew he was working it all out in his head still, and she'd made the mistake of bringing it up prematurely. She decided to try making light of the remark, and steer the conversation back to their sleeping arrangements. "I know. I'm sorry. But I'm right about the bed, aren't I? You're gonna wake up hurtin' tomorrow, if you sleep on that hard floor."

He was quiet for a moment, and she watched the fire while he considered her proposal. He strolled across the room and lowered himself back into the chair. Finally he looked at her again, and she thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards – like he was amused about something "Will it shut you up if I do?"

She smiled, and nodded in response, afraid to put her foot in her mouth again, and ruin a perfectly good moment. When she kept smiling, he cleared his throat. "No funny business, Beth. Aint the time or the place…" He trailed off mid-sentence and she felt her heart racing. Did that mean there would be a time and a place? A warm feeling of euphoria spread through her chest, surprising her a bit. After everything they'd been through, it was a wonder that she could still smile. Somehow he had that effect on her, despite everything that had happened. If she truly put her feelings under a microscope, Daryl had been heavy on her mind nearly since the day she met him. And the dreams about him had been coming, almost nightly, for months now. Of course, she'd been totally secretive about the feelings she had for him, especially since it looked like he and Carol might start a relationship.

Before this morning, Beth would never have had the courage to come out and tell him how she really felt. Heck, before this morning she would have never have even imagined asking him into her bed, for warmth or comfort or anything else. Now it seemed like the natural course of things. It didn't matter if he was almost twice her age, or if their astrological signs were incompatible, or that they came from completely different walks of life. Those old social boundaries had been cast away when the dead started walking. She felt she could pursue a romantic relationship with Daryl in good conscience, and if not, she'd probably go for it anyways, because she was pretty sure she was falling for him, and the possibility of love wasn't something you overlooked, however unexpected it might be. Especially in a world that had you running for your life every day just to keep breathing. These days, what happened to Maggie and Glenn was rare. Love was something to be treasured, if you were lucky enough to find someone worthy of it.

Her face filled with heat as she thought about confessing her feelings to him, and how he might react. He saw her blush, and he seemed to squirm a bit in his seat. Beth thought he couldn't possibly be any sexier than he was by firelight. She'd never been attracted to an older man before, and she'd never felt as aroused just being in someone's presence as she did with Daryl. It was like his every action triggered some kind of physical response in her, especially when they touched, in anyway, even accidentally. She'd had boyfriends, but this wasn't the same.

Daryl got up again, and she watched him check the snake. "Hand me that fork." He said, thumbing over his shoulder at the bag. She got up, grabbed the fork, and handed it to him. He speared one of the steaks, and handed it back to her. "It's hot." He warned.

She nodded, and took her dinner back over to the bed, sitting down again. Daryl used his knife to get the other pieces out, lining them up on the table. He picked up the fattest piece with his fingers – though it was still steaming – and ate it in three bites before going back for seconds.

Beth took her time with her portion. It was delicious, the perfect flavor and consistency. Or maybe she was just starving. They gorged themselves, saving only two pieces for the morning. For desert they each had a saltine with a little peanut butter spread on top. They finished one of the bottles of water, and Daryl gave her last swig. "Got to find more tomorrow. " He pointed out. His calloused fingers brushed against hers as she took the bottle from him, and their eyes met again for a moment, before he pulled away. Yes, there was definitely more tension between them at this very moment than ever before. Beth knew she wasn't imagining things when he took a deep breath, and ran his fingers nervously through his hair, resting against the table again. "Can't live without water." He added, but she got the feeling the last thing on the archer's mind was water. He wanted her, she could feel it, and not being able to touch him was like having an itch she couldn't scratch.

They sat in silence for a full five minutes, but it wasn't awkward silence, it was a comfortable kind of quiet that had developed between them while walking earlier in the day. With her belly full, she started to feel drowsy again. He said something, but all she could do was nod in response, resting her head on her palm. Daryl looked up at her when she didn't answer. "Lie down, girl, 'for you pass out." Beth wanted to argue that she wanted to wait for him, but she was too sleepy. Instead, she wiped the grease off her face with her shirt sleeve, and sank back on the bed, careful to leave plenty of space open beside her.

As she drifted off to sleep she was vaguely aware of him moving around the cabin, preparing for sleep. Then she felt his weight next to her. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the heat rolling off him, and she imagined she could hear his heart beating. Beth timed her breathes with Daryl's, and before long his electric blue eyes were haunting her sleep.

….

Beth woke to what felt like a vice grip clamped over her mouth. Her eyes flew open and she was temporarily blinded by a beam of light coming through a crack in the wall. It took her a second to comprehend that the weight over her mouth, was a rough, calloused hand. Panicking, she struggled. Another arm wrapped around her head, pulling her closer. "Walkers," she heard a familiar gruff voice hiss in her ear.

Beth went limp, and he released her instantly. She lay stark still, listening. Sure enough, she heard groans and shuffling outside the shack. Her heart started hammering, and a chill went up her spine. She felt Daryl quietly extract himself from the bed. He produced his crossbow from somewhere nearby, before moving silently next to the wall. He leaned in, peering through a crack to see what he could outside. When he turned back, and she saw his expression, it felt like her insides turned to ice. For the first time, ever, Daryl looked scared. "'Bout ten of 'em. Smoke must have drawn 'em."

Drawing courage from the calm tone of his voice, she eased out of bed, fishing her gun out from under the bed-frame. As she straightened, she ensured her new knife was still tucked into her back pocket. Daryl had moved over to the door and was looking through another crack. There was a shrieking sound, and the door rattled like something was shaking it from the outside. Daryl took a wary step backward, and glanced over his shoulder at her. He crooked his index finger then raised it in front of his mouth. She tip-toed over and stood next to him with her gun pointed down at the floor.

He bent over and put his face by her ear. She felt his facial hair scratch her cheek, and chills went up her spine. The nerves in her cheek tingled. _Really? Now? _She thought_. _ "Too many of 'em. Gonna open the door. Soon as I'm through, you slam it shut. I'll draw 'em away. Then you run."

She shook her head. "We stay together." She whispered.

"'Aint you listening? There's too many."

Her panic was intensifying with his stubbornness. She was afraid he would ignore her. That he'd storm out the door, before she had time to talk some sense into him and she'd never see him again. "I don't care. We can't get separated. There has to be another way." She hissed back.

He seemed a little caught off guard that she wasn't following instructions. He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could there they heard a gun-shot outside, followed by the sound of something thumping to the ground not far from the front door.

Daryl put his arms around Beth and pushed her down to the floor. He shoved her under the table with his free hand. Then the archer vanished from her line of sight.

The next minute was a riot of chaos. She counted six more shots, and light flooded the cabin. There was a series of thuds, the gurgling of walkers dying close-by, and then everything went quiet. Holding her gun out in front of her, Beth peeked out from under the table. Daryl was kneeling down, pulling his knife out of the head of walker. Three other walkers were stacked underneath the body he was removing his blade from. Obviously they had been dispatched the same way. Slumped against the door was a female walker with a bolt stuck through her skull, holding her in place against the wood frame of the door way.

Beth pulled herself out from under the table in time to see Daryl rise, flicking his wrist to get the brain matter off his knife, before stowing it back in the scabbard on his belt.

He didn't look back at her, as she expected him too. Instead, he was focusing on something outside the door, his eyes narrowed into slits. She watched him hold up the crossbow, pointing it at someone or something. She risked a glance out the door, following the direction of Daryl's glare.

Standing about ten feet from the door of the shack was a big, tall man with red hair and a beard. He was dressed in camouflage cargo pants, and a dirty tank-top. The butt of his assault rifle was resting against his hip with the barrel pointed out and up. Beside him stood a petite girl with tan skin, and a long black pony-tail. She had a machine gun in one hand, and her other hand was firmly planted on her hip. Beth's first impression of the girl was that she looked bored.

About six twice-dead corpses lay between the strangers, and the front door of the shack. "Sergeant Abraham Ford, US Army." The big man said, smiling at Daryl and Beth. "This here is my companion, Rosita Espinosa. Saw the biter's surrounding your place, thought you might be in need of some assistance."

She felt Daryl tense beside her. "We had a plan." He growled in response.

Abraham raised his eyebrows looking down at the walkers, and surprised Beth by laughing out loud. "A Plan? Plan to do what, die?" The big man asked.

"No," Daryl sneered.

"Seems to me, we saved your lives," Abraham commented, winking at Beth who blushed involuntarily at the large man's friendliness.

Seeing the exchange, Daryl stepped protectively in front of her, blocking their view of her, but also obstructing her view of them. She saw his back muscles were rigid as he held the crossbow trained on the strangers. "So, ya helped. Now what?" Daryl asked, and she saw the muscles in his forearm clench.

"Well, we'd be much fucking obliged if you started by lowering your bow, friend."

"Aint your friend" Daryl hissed back, not moving an inch. Beth peeked around Daryl, clutching her gun so hard the muscles in her palm protested in pain. She didn't want to have to shoot either of them, but if it came down to it she wanted to be prepared to help Daryl take them out, and the only way she could do that was if she could see them. The thought of having to kill the pretty girl made her stomach turn. She'd killed a few walkers, and she was fairly certain she'd shot at least one of the Governor's people yesterday, but this wasn't the same thing.

Abraham laughed again, and Rosita grinned. "Honestly partner, we aren't bad folk. We're just passing through on our way to DC. Came across your little situation, and thought we'd help. Seems it'd be best for us to get on our way now."

Beth took a breath finally when she saw Daryl's shoulders start to relax. He slowly lowered the crossbow. "That easy, huh?" Daryl asked.

They had already turned to leave, Rosita giving Beth an oddly sympathetic look before she turned to follow the big man, but Abraham turned back to look at Daryl. "Believe it or not, not everyone is your enemy," Abraham replied, before turning to walk away again.

Beth found her voice. "Wait." She yelled, scooting out from behind Daryl. He gave her a scathing look, but she ignored him. These people might have seen the Governor in the last twenty four hours, and she couldn't afford to let them go, without finding out if they had first.

The two of them turned back to face the shack. Rosita looked at Beth. "What's a girl like you doing alone out here with a man like him anyway?" She asked, speaking for the first time. Beth saw the look of suspicion on the girl's face. Did she think Daryl was keeping her prisoner?

"We're from the same group." Beth answered quickly, hearing Daryl's sharp intake of breath at what Rosita was implying. Beth pushed on, desperate to ask her question. "Yesterday our camp was attacked. We're looking for the man responsible. Have you run into a tall, lanky, black-haired man, wearing an eye-patch? He may, or may not, have been wounded."

Rosita looked confused, and Abraham shook his head. "Not that I can recall, and I think I would recall a one-eyed asshole like you're describing. Hey little girl, isn't that a long stretch? Finding someone these days, risking your life for what? Revenge? Look, why don't you two come with us? We've got a military truck down on the road, and we need all the people we can get to join us on our mission."

"Mission?" Daryl repeated. "What mission?"

Abraham turned to wave at someone. There was a flicker of movement in the woods, and a short, round looking man with a mullet stepping out from behind a pine tree.

"Who the hell is this?" Daryl asked, nodding at the man who came to stand next to Abraham.

Abraham nodded his head in the stranger's direction. "This is my other companion, Eugene Porter. Our mission is to get Eugene here to Washington DC. He's has important information, vital to the survival of the human race."

"I doubt it," Daryl said, scoffing at Eugene. "What kind of vital information?"

Rosita scowled, apparently not appreciating Daryl's sarcastic tone. "Eugene's a scientist. He knows about a cure."

When Daryl and Beth just stared at her, Rosita continued, not bothering to conceal an eye-roll. "A cure for the infection," she elaborated.

"Pfft…Aint no cure," Daryl said, "we die, we turn. Unless you're a lucky enough sum'bich t' have someone around willin' t' shoot you in the head 'fore it happens. No offense, but you three 'aint got a chance in hell of getting all the way to DC, anyhow. We'll pass."

Beth agreed with Daryl. It was a long way to DC from Georgia, even being as far north as they were, not to mention from the way Rick described Atlanta, she couldn't imagine what it would be like in DC. Overrun no doubt. Everyone knew the cities were death traps now.

"To be exact," Eugene said, stepping up beside Abraham, "Our current odds of arriving at our destination are exactly two hundred thousand three hundred and sixty-six, to one. The more people helping us, the more our chances of success increase."

Daryl gave Eugene a long look. Beth noticed he was still clutching his bow with both hands, but at least he wasn't pointing it at them anymore. She looked at Eugene. It was clear, from the way he spoke, that he was some kind of genius. She wondered if he really did know about a cure, and if so, to what extent. "'Sides," Daryl continued, completely ignoring Eugene, and addressing Abraham. "DC's a good six hundred miles away. Shit, you won't make it outside Georgia – not with winter comin.'"

Eugene shook his finger at Daryl, apparently not intimidated by the archer's obvious distain for him. "Actually, the distance to the government building in DC is precisely five hundred and forty-seven point two miles from where you're standing, sir, if you were going for accuracy."

"I wasn't." Daryl growled.

Abraham shook his head, slung his gun over his shoulder and wound his thumbs into his belt loops. "It seems like neither one of you's been paying close enough attention to the hell on earth we've been living in. So let me tell you how to best avoid winding up just another dead-alive prick. You find some strong, like-minded comrades and you stay stuck together like wet on water. Like my companion explained; we _need _people. The more the better. We need each other, partner. Even with that crossbow, you won't last a night. Not by yourselves."

Beth knew the big man was underestimating Daryl. Heck at the beginning, even her daddy had been guilty of miscalculating the archer's abilities. But it didn't matter. They had nothing to prove to these people. "We can't go. " Beth said, giving them a weak smile. "Sorry. We have family here that we're looking for, and a very bad man to attend to."

"The two of you?" Abraham said, pointing a finger at her, then at Daryl. He belly laughed again. Rosita joined in with a giggle. "God damn that's funny" he said, rubbing his belly.

"You done?" Daryl asked.

The two of them straightened and their laughter died out. "You're right about one thing" Daryl agreed, "People need people t' survive now. So, tell you what. You stick with us for a while, and – come spring - we'll help you get your package to DC in one piece." He dropped his left hand from the crossbow to gesture disgustedly toward Eugene.

Abraham looked like he was seriously entertaining Daryl's offer, which totally took Beth off-guard. She was certain Daryl was bluffing, and making a point at the same time. Abraham was asking a lot of Daryl and Beth, considering they were strangers, and Daryl was trying to turn that back around on him.

"We do have a better chance of arriving at our destination if we avoid traveling during the winter months." Eugene added.

Beth couldn't believe they were actually considering Daryl's offer. "You gotta be kidding me." Daryl said under his breath, where only she could hear. So he was also worried Abraham might call his bluff.

"You got a safe place to hunker down?" Abraham asked skeptically.

"Maybe. There's an underground missile silo not far from here. You help us clear it, and you can share it with us."

Beth tried to act natural. What was Daryl up to? He'd never mentioned any such place to her before. Was he just out-right lying, and if so, to what end? The place he described sounded nice, but she had no intention of waiting out the winter. If the Governor was smart, he was leaving the area. They might only have a small window of time to track him down before his trail ran cold. She didn't know much about tracking, but she knew that at least. Abraham smiled. "You can understand why I have a hard time believing the legitimacy of your story. It seems to me that if you really knew of such a place, you would have taken your 'group' there."

"Tried to," Daryl answered, and she heard truth in his voice. "Told our leader about it, but his wife was pregnant at the time, and we decided it wasn't worth the risk. Time the baby came, we'd settled in where we were. Made the place safe, made it our home."

Abraham's eyes widened. "A baby?"

"Yes," Beth said, confirming Daryl's story "Lori had a baby girl." It was the first time she had allowed herself to even think of _her_ Judith, and she was surprised to feel a lump growing in her throat as she thought about what might have happened to the baby. She was surprised to feel her eyes beginning to well up with moisture.

"Amazing." Abraham said, and Eugene nodded beside him.

"The infant mortality rate has skyrocketed since the outbreak. I must say I was beginning to question whether or not the human race could reproduce anymore. Interesting that…" Eugene said.

"Best shut your boy up." Daryl told Abraham, interrupting Eugene. "She took care uh that baby. Might as well of been her mama." He gestured at Beth.

Now Beth felt large, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. Hearing Daryl speak so tenderly about Judith, and hearing him refer to baby in the past-tense was more than Beth could handle. A sob racked through her body, and she felt like she might be sick. Daryl reached over and put his left arm around her shoulders, pulling her next to him. She tucked her arm across his chest and cried into his shirt. She vaguely heard Daryl's voice vibrating under her chest. He was telling them about her daddy's death, about losing her sister, and Judith.

_Get it together_, Beth, she told herself. Soon, the tears subsided. She lifted her face a bit, looking up at Daryl, ignoring the others. He glanced down, and saw her looking up at him. "Just tell me she isn't dead Daryl." She begged.

"Beth" he said, soft enough for only her to hear. "You know I can't do that. But maybe…"

Beth interrupted. "What kinda mother lets her child get…?"

"Stop." He said, cutting her off. She felt his hot breath against her ear. "That aint on you."

She nodded. She was keenly aware of the other's watching them. She felt Daryl's hand on the back of her neck as he turned to face the others. "Got some food, and water, inside. Aint much, but it's better 'n nothing.'"

Abraham grinned. "We'd be much obliged. Got some rations of our own we'd be happy share. Guess it's a potluck."

"Guess so," Daryl said. He lowered his hand to her back, and she felt tentacles of pleasant heat radiating up her spine, from his touch.

….

_I hope you are enjoying Sweet Revenge. I am currently working on chapter three. I have the whole story mapped out, and I know where I'm going with it. Please, please, please leave me a review. It totally helps motivate me to keep writing this. I would love to hear anything you have to say, even if it's only one sentence, or one word for that matter. Thanks guys! _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

Chapter 3

Everyone but Rosita, who had volunteered to take watch, crowded into the shack. Daryl shut the door behind them, positioning his crossbow on his back. Beth stood next to him, by the table. Abraham was emptying the food they had onto the table, and Eugene was sitting on the bed, looking around the shack, blinking rapidly. "Got lucky a few weeks ago. Found a substantial stash of MRE's. This is what's left." Abraham told them.

Beth looked at the boxed MRE's. Each had a label. There was spaghetti with meat sauce, cherry blueberry cobbler, clam chowder, chili macaroni, and chicken pesto pasta. There were also a couple condiment packages of grape jelly, and a bag of powdered lemon-line drink-mix. It wasn't much, but when they added Beth and Daryl's stash, everyone would eat.

"I will take that cobbler." Eugene said, speaking for the first time since he entered the shack.

Abraham shook his head. "You had cobbler yesterday. And the day before that, come to think of it."

Daryl snatched the cobbler off the table, and handed it to Beth, claiming the chicken pesto pasta for himself. Abraham grinned, and tossed Eugune the clam chowder. Eugene looked down at the package, and frowned disappointedly. Beth was about to relinquish the cobbler Daryl had given her, when Eugene shrugged, smiled, ripped the package of clam chowder open, and started dumping the contents into his mouth.

They made five separate portions of Beth and Daryl's food. Abraham went outside to bring Rosita her meal. The minute the door shut behind him, Beth leaned in toward Daryl, "What were you talking about? Is there really a missile silo?"

Daryl glanced over her shoulder at Eugene before answering her in a low whisper she could barely hear. "Merle and I came across it 'fore we hooked up with the group. Checked it out again uh few runs back, thinkin' we might have a need to relocate. Tops pretty bad, but there's uh good chance it's secure below. Goin' t' take some fuckin' muscle to clear it though." Now she understood now why he'd half-heartedly made the offer to Abraham. Daryl expected they were going to need help clearing the silo.

"But what about the Governor?" She hissed.

He frowned. "You still want t' do that?"

"Of course, I do. I was serious."

He was looking her straight in the eyes, and she almost flinched as he reached up and swiped a loose hair out of her face, the back of his knuckle barely brushing her cheek. Her face tingled instantly, and she knew her face was turning bright red. "All right." He took his hand away, and grasped the strap of his crossbow – up by his shoulder – instead. "But there's more 'n one way to skin a cat."

"What do you mean?" Her brain was all jumbled up by his rare gesture of affection, and she was having a hard time following.

He looked over at Eugene again, "'Fore he died, Merle told me 'bout a hiding place the Governor showed him. Got uh rough idea of where it is. Passing near it on our way t' the silo." He rubbed his chin, glancing at the door then looked back at her. "We go by, scope the situation out, if he's in there we leave him alone, for now."

"Leave him alone?" Her voice raised an octave, and Daryl gave her a warning look, gesturing with his eyes at Eugene. "Sorry," she squeaked. She risked glancing over her shoulder at their visitor. His chin was resting on his chest and she realized, with a pang of pity, he had fallen asleep sitting up.

"If he's there, he's plannin' t' hole up for the winter." Daryl paused, chewing on his bottom lip for a few seconds before he continued. "He aint goin' nowhere. Why not let him get real cozy? Meanwhile, we start lookin' for our people, we get ourselves set up for the winter so we have somewhere safe t' bring 'em, _and_ we get you some fightin' and killin' skills. When the time comes we'll be stronger, and we'll have a plan."

"I've got skills," she said, pouting.

"You know how t' kill a damn walker. Aint the same when you're aimin' to execute a person. Trust me."

She opened up her mouth to argue, but then she remembered the sick feeling she had when she thought she might have to shoot Rosita, or Abraham. She had no call to hate them, and she did the Governor, but she had to admit to herself that she might have a hard time stomaching murder, even if the man deserved it a thousand times over. She could use some training, some hardening, and being on the road with Daryl was a promising way to get those things. She couldn't afford to be weak anymore.

They ate in silence for a minute or two. Beth's stomach was grumbling. She'd become accustomed to eating regularly at the prison.

She had kept it to herself, but Beth had always felt a little passed over when it came to protecting the group, or going on runs. Michonne, Maggie, Sasha, they were constantly called on to do the dangerous stuff, even Carol went out on the occasional run, but Rick never even thought to ask Beth. The closest she'd been to a weapon in months – before yesterday – was helping load, clean and assemble guns, and the like, for the people doing all the dangerous jobs.

She had no experience killing people. Still, she wasn't sure she could be patient knowing where the Governor was holed up, and not doing anything about it. Daryl cleared his throat, and Beth looked up to meet his inquisitive blue eyes. She hugged herself, feeling a chill in the air. "Okay, I see your point. But what if he isn't there? What if Merle was wrong about where the Governor would go?"

Daryl set his empty MRE aside, and crossed his arms over his chest. He gave his head a little shake, and sighed. "I want him dead too. Way I see it, he killed Merle, but it aint going t' be easy trackin' him, if he aint there. Goin t' take time. Time we should be usin' t' look for our family, t' prepare for winter." He ate a spoonful of the chicken pasta, grimaced, and tossed the rest of the package in their make-shift trash can. "It's your call, Beth. Figure I owe you this one, anyway, if you're sure it's what you want. "

She knew Daryl was just trying to be honest with her, but it sort of felt like he was also subtly chastising her. Obviously, she shouldn't put their survival, or reuniting with their loved ones, before killing the Governor. But she couldn't help it that every time she thought of that evil man, out there, alive somewhere, she saw that sword coming down on her daddy's neck. And every time she saw that, she felt an uncontrollable yearning to prioritize killing the man over everything else.

Beth was unaccustomed to dealing with this kind of rage, and if it wasn't for Daryl, she would have probably succumbed to it yesterday, and got herself killed in the process. All of sudden, Daryl's words replayed in her head. '_Figure I owe you this one, if you're sure it's what you want.' _What did he mean by that? Why should Daryl feel like he owed her anything, and was that the only reason he rescued her from the prison, the only reason he was sticking around now? "What do you mean?" She asked him, cocking her head to the left and crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked up from the drink-mix he was opening. "Huh?"

"You said you owed me. Why?"

He frowned, and looked back down at the drink-mix. When he didn't respond, she reached out to touch his shoulder.

The door opened, and Beth jumped a little. Abraham ducked inside, his hands full of empty food wrappers. She guessed he'd shared his meal outside with Rosita. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya, little girl." He told her, with a smile, dropping the wrappers in the trash can.

"Her names Beth," Daryl growled, "Or ma'am."

She blushed at Daryl's reprimand of Abraham. "My apologies, _ma'am_," Abraham said, crossing the room to Eugene and shaking the poor guy roughly awake.

Eugene blinked, and looked sharply to his left and right, like he was expecting to see a walker coming up on him. "What is it Abe?"

"We're heading down to the truck before it gets too late." Abraham told him. He turned back to face Daryl and Beth again. "Your place is too small for the five of us. We'll sleep in the truck tonight, and drive it up in the morning. In the meantime, we'll talk about your offer."

"We're staying one more night, movin' on tomorrow." Daryl said, pouring the drink mix into the big bottle of water Abraham's group had contributed. "We'll stick around 'till noon. See if you show."

"We'll be here, one way or the other. I can't, in good conscious, leave the two of you without another couple weapons, especially when we have plenty to go around, now that the rest of our team's gone. Just trying to do the human thing. There's not many of us left. Way I look at it, we ought to take care of each-other, it's what separates man from beast, you know?"

"A man without ethics is a wild beast loosed upon the world. Albert Camus. French philosopher." Eugene added.

"So what's the story with you two?" Abraham asked, pointing at her and Daryl. Beth swallowed, glancing at Daryl out of the corner of her eye, and caught him doing the same thing her way. She hoped he didn't expect her to answer.

"What's the hell's _that_ got t' do with anything, man?" Daryl asked, visibly bristling.

Abraham raised his eyebrows. "It's none of my business. I was just curious. The way she looks at you," he said slowly, "way you look at her. Rosi and I had you pegged as a couple." Beth's heart bolted in her chest, like someone just hooked it up to battery cables. Daryl looked at her in a certain way? _Hmmmm_, she thought. She would have to pay closer attention to that.

"You're right," Daryl replied, and Beth almost coughed up her last bite of cobbler, before he finished. "Aint none of your business."

Abraham stared at them both for a second. Then he shrugged. "Was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am" he nodded at Daryl, and looked over his shoulder at his companion. "Come on, Eugene."

Eugene scuttled after Abraham, giving Daryl and Beth a little nod as he passed by. After they shut the door, Daryl went to stand by it, watching them leave through the crack between the boards.

….

Daryl started collecting noisemakers – the empty cans, some wind-chimes hanging in front of the window. He was avoiding looking at her, and talking to her. Beth helped him fill the plastic bag he had with twine, and noisemakers. Then he hoisted his crossbow over his shoulder, and he went to the door. "Goin' t' set up a perimeter." He grumbled over his shoulder before disappearing outside. They'd slept half the day, and evening was already coming on.

Beth watched him go out the front door. Abraham's question had certainly created awkwardness between them, and Beth wasn't sure how to overcome it. She kept herself busy cleaning up the shack, re-packing their backpack, and she was cleaning her gun at the kitchen table when she heard his warning whistle outside. Seconds later he stalked back in the door. He sat his crossbow on the table beside her, and looked at her. He leaned against the table, pulled out his knife and started cleaning under his finger nails. "You all right?" He asked her after a minute.

"Yeah," she said, finishing up with the gun and setting it aside, "How 'bout you?"

He shrugged, "It's locked down tight. Stupid of me not to do it last night."

"We were both exhausted, Daryl."

"Don' matter, still stupid."

She sighed, leaning back on the bucket she was using as a stool, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now whose beating themselves up?"

He glanced up from under those heavy eyelashes, then looked back down at his nails again, and shrugged. She remembered the discussion they were having before Abraham had interrupted them. "Earlier you said you owed me." She reminded him.

He inhaled deeply, and slid his knife slowly back into the scabbard. He glanced up at her, nodding a little, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Should'uh saved him." He said it so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

His words brought back the sword arcing gracefully down in slow motion again. The red wrath surged through her body. She gritted her teeth, biting her tongue and tasting blood in her mouth. Her eyes swam with stars for a moment, but then she looked up and saw Daryl, and seeing that guilt reflected in his expression beat back the red tide, keeping it from engulfing her entirely.

Daryl wouldn't let her blame herself for losing Judith, and she couldn't let him think he owed her for failing to save her father. There was nothing he could have done, and Beth knew that. The instinct to comfort him cooled her a bit, but there was still enough fire left to embolden her.

She stood up, and took two steps toward him. Risking touching him, she put her hands on his chest, and looked up into his sorrowful eyes. He tensed for a minute at her nearness, but didn't do anything to push her away. "Just like I couldn't save _her_, there was nothing you could have done for him." She whispered. "You did save me, Daryl, and there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be, right now, than here with you." The boldness of her statement should have been difficult for Beth, but it wasn't, and she felt incredibly strong admitting the truth to him, finally.

He looked like he really wanted to tell her something back. Instead, he reached up and put his hands on the backs of her arms, pulling her torso forward and causing her head to dip back a little, so she was looking up at him. They stood like that, staring at each other, her clutched in his grip, for what felt like an eternity to Beth. Then he was leaning in, whispering her name over and over, and burying his face in the curve of her neck. His hands slid past the backs of her arms, and onto the small of her back, and he pulled her closer, so her chest was pressed into his. Her hands slipped under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His skin was hot, like he had a fever. Curiosity motivated Beth to let her fingertips trail further up over his ribs, toward his heaving chest. He inhaled sharply, and released his hold on her, shoving her back a bit. It was her turn to gasp at being parted, involuntarily, from him. He must have seen the hurt in her eyes, because he shook his head, reached out, grabbing her by the wrist, and pulled her against him again.

He held her, tucked against his chest, and she felt a tremor go through him. Beth sensed he was trying hard to slow down, but that wasn't what she wanted. She craved more from him, so much more. To begin with, she wanted to kiss him. Deciding to give it a try, she turned her head, and brushed her lips against the exposed skin by his collarbone. She inhaled his smell; leather, wood, and smoke, and kissed him again right at the hollow of his neck, feeling his scruffy chin pressing down on the top of her head. He froze still as a statue, but he didn't push her away. She took that as an encouraging sign, and went up on tippy-toes, putting her arms up to wrap around his neck. The movement caused her hips to grind into his body, and she felt a hardness pressing against her that intrigued, excited, and terrified her all at once. Daryl groaned deeply, and she felt the vibration of it all the way down to the tips of her toes. Then he abruptly grabbed her wrists, and guided her arms back down in front of their bodies, pushing outward a little so she stood at least a foot away from him. He held her like that, his breaths coming ragged and hard. "Why'd ya do that?" She asked, trying to twist out of his grasp and step forward again, drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

"No," he said, his hot hands gently holding her at bay. "Got t' stop now. This aint right."

What was he talking about? What they were doing felt more right to Beth than anything ever had. He released her, and she noticed he was shaking a little. He took a step backward and clamped down on the table behind him, with both hands. His eyes were all wide and intense, his hair falling in his face.

Beth was mortified at his rejection. "I'm sorry."

Those blue diamond eyes shot right up to meet hers. "For what?" He asked in a dubious tone. His eyebrows crunching inward, his voice unsteady.

She swallowed, turning away from him, and went to sit on the bed. She didn't trust herself standing that close to him, not with the way her hands seemed to have a mind of their own where he was concerned. Twisting them in her lap, Beth looked up to see him watching her every move. She wished he wouldn't, it only deepened the embarrassment from him stopping her despite the fact that he'd seemed to be enjoying it as much as she had. But Daryl was older than her, and she wasn't naïve enough to think he hadn't been with much more experienced women than her. The farthest she'd gone with a boy was, back before all the crazy stuff, when she'd let Jimmy stick his hand under her shirt. She wanted to slap herself for not learning more when she had the chance. "Beth. Sorry for what?" Daryl repeated his question. He obviously wasn't going to drop it like she was hoping.

Beth shrugged, unable to look at him. "For whatever I did wrong," she mumbled, shrugging a little.

He actually chuckled. She looked up, narrowing her eyes at him, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Daryl Dixon, don't you dare laugh at me."

He shook his head. "Wasn't laughing _at _you. Was laughing 'cause you think you did somethin' wrong. Did the complete opposite of wrong."

"Huh?"

He sighed. "Did _everything_ right. Too right." He took in a ragged breath, "was leadin' t' things, things that can't happen."

Beth knew when you stripped the conversation down to what it was really about, they were talking about sex. Maggie had given her all kinds of details, so she knew how it worked. And she felt it was about damn time she became a woman. She was a woman in every other way. She didn't want to be a virgin her whole life. It was time to grow up. She wondered if Daryl was so reluctant because he somehow knew she was virgin. Could a man know a thing like that about a woman, without her telling him? Could he have guessed? She found her voice. "What if_ we _want them to happen? Why shouldn't they?"

She thought she heard him groan again, and he started chewing on his lower lip, looking like he was trying to work out how to answer her. "Tol' you already. Not 'cause you did somethin' wrong. 'Cause the entire situation is wrong."

She took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "That reason makes no sense, Daryl."

He muttered something like, "reason sort uh goes without fuckin' sayin.'"

"Not really. Not for me. What exactly are you saying?"

He stiffened. "I'm sayin' you're way too goddam young for me."

"Oh." She said, cocking her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Is that all?"

He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

Beth couldn't help smiling at him. At least the real reason was out there now, and she didn't have to worry that he didn't want her. She thought his reason was silly. Age was irrelevant now, and Daryl being older just didn't matter to her. She knew how she felt about him, how safe she felt with him. Beth trusted him implicitly, maybe even loved him. After all, she'd had plenty of time to think about her feeling for Daryl, plenty of time to let them simmer.

She took a deep breath, the smile still playing on her lips. It was easier finding a solution when you knew what your dilemma was. And as long as the problem wasn't that Daryl just didn't want her, she felt it was definitely possible he might be made to eventually see things her way. She decided not to press it anymore. She wanted time to think about how to proceed, time to play the events of the last five minutes over and over in her mind – time to remember every touch, to remember his sharp intakes of breaths, his groans, the way his hands trembled when he was trying to be gentle, and how he had to clamp them down on the table to keep them off her, his scruffy cheek against her skin, him whispering her name, and his searing breath burning a track along her neck. Her body was still an inferno everywhere he'd touched her, the back of her arms, her neck, her lower back, like his fingertips had left a fiery trail on her skin.

"You could sing a song. Haven't heard ya sing in uh while," he said, calling her out of her glorious flashback.

"I thought my singing got on your nerves."

He closed his eyes, and slowly shook his head. "Go on." He said, gesturing with his hand for her to start singing.

She inhaled deeply, leaning back on the bed, laying her head on the backpack. She tried to think of something appropriate to the moment. He listened intently, staring at a spot on the wall. Beth was surprised when her voice cracked a little, something about singing made her feel sad. Maybe it was because it was the first time she was singing after her daddy died, and he'd always been the one to ask her. At least there was someone left in the world to ask her. At least she wasn't all alone.

_You don't wanna be my boyfriend  
And that's probably for the best  
Because that, that gets messy  
And you will hurt me  
Or I'll disappear_

So we will drink beer all day  
And our guards will give way  
And we'll be good

Beth fell silent when the song was over. Her mind was a million miles away, focused on a future that could never exist. She imagined what it would be like to settle down with Daryl. Beth had always been the kind of little girl who harbored secret fantasies of a big wedding, and brood of children. She hadn't had much time, since the outbreak, to think about things like that. And even if she'd had the time, Beth knew she couldn't even consider bringing children into the world while men like the governor roamed free, and unchecked. Girlish thoughts about living on a farm with Daryl, having his dark haired, blue-eyed babies running around, was just the type of thinking she needed to separate herself from. She couldn't be the Beth that hoped for those kinds of things anymore, with Daryl or anyone else. She had to face the reality that she would probably never have a man go down on one knee and propose to her, like they did in the movies. That she'd probably never know what it felt like to have a little life moving around inside her. And she knew hoping for those unrealistic outcomes wasn't going to help her survive. It was time to evolve and adapt to her surroundings, time to accept the new normal, once and for all.

….

**A/N: ** I hope you all are enjoying this. I really had fun writing this chapter, especially considering it was my first time writing a "steamy" scene.

My plan is to add at least one chapter a week, and this is going to be a long one. I think you will all be very pleased, and maybe a little surprised, at where I'm planning to go with it. Please, please, please let me know if you have any ideas, suggestions, or just how you feel – in general – about this chapter. My favorite review so far was when someone said she liked the idea of Beth & Rosita becoming friends. I hadn't even really considered how cool that would be, and I'm totally using it.

Trying to keep Abe, Eugene, and Rosi canon is proving to be a real challenge, but I think I'm up for it, though I might tinker with their back-stories a bit – here and there – since we know so little about them so far. Yeah, this is definitely becoming a little more AU than I'd planned, but who cares, it's more fun that way – for me at least.

Enough rambling. Will try to have chapter four up in the next few days.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**This chapter goes out to my homiez** Rubiredslippers and EmElleAre55, for their consistently helpful feedback, and to my daughter, Mathilda LaFae, for being a constant source of inspiration to me since the day she came into the world.

**Chapter Four**

"See ya had yerself some company last night." Abraham said, nodding toward the dead walkers lying in the yard, both with bolts sticking up out of their heads. Beth barely remembered Daryl waking up to dispatch the two wanderers that came through their perimeter during the night. Right after the song, she must have fallen asleep. Daryl hadn't come to bed, and when the walker's had woken them up, she'd seen him slumped against the cabinet, dozing, before he'd darted into action, telling her stay put.

He was gone for less than a minute. When he returned, he told her he was going to stay outside and keep watch. Told her to go back to sleep. And she had. She'd slept, and had the most horrible nightmare, about Daryl getting bit, turning, and her having to put him down.

Though she was standing in the full sunlight, she shivered remembering the dream.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Daryl answered, quickly collecting his bolts from the walker's skulls.

Abraham laughed, "No doubt. Let me help you get 'em into the pile."

Rosita walked up to Beth while she was watching the men dispose of the corpses. She was holding a small stack of clothes. "Here," she said, "I think we're about the same size."

"Wow," Beth said, "are you sure?"

Rosita nodded and handed her the clothes. Beth liked the girl's smile. She seemed amused by Beth's wonderment over the clothing. "Yeah, I'm sure, they're yours. No offense, but you look like you could use a bath too."

Beth hadn't even thought about the fact that she had been wearing the same clothes for a couple days in a row. She looked down at herself. She was dirty, blood-spattered, and she knew she'd sweated up a storm yesterday. Her hair was probably starting to look like a rats nest. She suddenly felt self-conscious and put her hand up to her hair, trying to run her fingers through it without much success. The other girl must have noticed because she held up a finger, before turning back to the truck and disappearing behind it. Beth nodded at Eugene who was reclining against the front of the truck reading a comic book.

Rosita came back, holding a silver rectangular shaped box. "You can have it. We raided a department store a few months back, and I found a whole case of these babies."

Beth took the box, and opened it up. Inside there was a fancy brush, a comb, a compact mirror, and a toothbrush, all silver. There was also a travel sized tube of tooth paste. "Thank you." Beth said, looking up to meet the girl's chestnut brown eyes.

Rosita waved it off. "Maybe we'll hit a town, or two, on our way to this place your friend is taking us. I sure wouldn't mind some new outfits." She pinched the fabric of her camo pants.

"So you're coming along?"

"Sounds like it."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Can I ask why?"

Rosita shrugged. "Abraham. He says we're stronger with you, than without even if we have to wait."

"Well, that makes some sense."

The girl nodded slowly. "I just hope your boy was telling the truth."

Beth didn't know if Daryl could necessarily be labeled as her 'boy,' but she secretly thrilled at Rosita calling him that. "Daryl's a man of his word."

Rosita crossed her arms over her chest. "How long have you known him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Since a few months after the world died."

"Really? That long?"

Beth nodded. What was Rosita getting at? "He's trustworthy. He's saved the lives of about everyone in our group, including me, most of us more than once."

"No offense, but he comes off a little scary."

Beth tried to remember ever feeling scared of Daryl Dixon, intimidated maybe but never scared. Merle had scared her, terrified her actually, and she'd never been able to believe the two men were related. She could understand where Rosita was coming from though. When Daryl was protecting something he cared about, he could be very convincing. "He's rough around the edges, but inside he's good." Beth said, believing the words with all her heart.

Rosita nodded, dropping the subject.

Beth excused herself and went inside the shack. She wiped the grime off her face and neck, brushed her hair, dry brushed her teeth, then looked over the clothing Rosita had given her. None of it was really Beth's style, but they were clean, and almost the perfect size. There was a pair of faded black Capri cargo pants, a black lacy bra - that was a cup size too big, but would work – with the tags still on it, and a black tank top. Rosita had included a camouflage hoodie that would come in handy during the chilly nights, and a pair of clean socks, and underwear.

Beth wanted to kiss the girl. She stripped out of her dirty clothes, and sponged down her body with a rag and a little of the bottled water. She had the new pants and the bra on when the door opened, and Daryl stepped in, shutting it behind him. She froze. He looked up and his eyes grew wide. He lifted his hand in front of his face, and turned away, and she saw the back of his neck turning red. "Dammit, Beth, could warn a guy when you're changing."

"Oops." She said, and she pulled on her shirt. "I'm decent now."

She thought she heard him muttering something like he'd said last night again, about her being the death of him. He turned back in her direction. "So, they're comin.'" He said.

"I know. Rosita told me."

"Genius-boy showed me some maps uh the local area. Got a better idea of where the Governor's hiding out. Headin' there first. Can't drive the truck close or he'll hear it, so we'll park uh mile or two off, then hike the rest uh the way."

"Okay." She replied, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"And if he's in there…"

"I know. We aren't going to do anything about it." She said. Beth was still feeling a little irritated about Daryl's plans for the Governor. She wanted the man dead and out of her nightmares, so she could have closure, so she could care more about the stuff that she knew should matter more.

"Trust me 'bout this, Beth. Fucker's gonna be on high alert for a while. We're goin' t' do this, we're damn' well goin' t' do it right."

"Daryl. I'm not arguing."

"Yeah, but you got a tone."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you're only looking out for us, doing the smart thing and all. It's just I want it," she made a choking motion with her hands, "so bad."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't go crazy on me again."

She frowned. "Again?"

He looked pointedly at her wrists. She instinctually placed a hand over each wrist. "All right, all right," she said, knowing what he referring to. He was giving her a disapproving look, and she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. They hadn't talked about what had happened between them the night before. She didn't know if she was ready for them to yet. She still had a lot on her mind. Like how she was going to get past him trying to be all honorable about her age, like it mattered anymore. Even in the old world, nineteen was considered an adult. Sure, it was a big gap, but she wasn't going to let it keep them apart. "I'll be okay."

"Good," he looked around the shack, "let's get packed."

….

Abraham volunteered Rosita to go with Daryl and Beth, and he stayed to watch over Eugene. Beth understood not wanting to risk the scientist's life, but she thought it was funny how Abe was like a mother hen about protecting his companion.

They parked the truck, and Daryl took point, leading them silently up a forested hill. When they came close to the top of the hill, Daryl held his hand up, stopping them. He pointed ahead, and they saw smoke trailing up through the trees. He pointed at the ground, and ducked down as he walked. They did the same. Then when they reached the top of the hill, they laid down on their bellies, flattened down so they could see the valley below, but couldn't be seen from the cabin nestled inside it.

It was a nice log cabin, surrounded by trees, with a decent sized barn about twenty feet behind it. Daryl pointed at two vehicles parked outside the barn. The place was obviously being lived in. Daryl used two fingers to point at his eyes before pointing down at the ground around the cabin. Beth looked where he was pointing, and inhaled sharply. Someone had dug a trench, at least six foot deep and three feet wide around the entire perimeter of the property. Inside, walkers moaned and scratched at the dirt, trying to climb out. It was a walker moat. She noticed that most of the walkers were shuffling around, but a couple of them had fallen on stakes driven into the ground. They were still moving, but they were held in place by the long barbs of metal protruding from their bodies. "He's in there. Got his fuckin' psycho style all over it." Daryl said, "Looks like he's got some company too."

Sure enough, standing on the porch were two men, carrying automatic weapons. "Those aren't the people that helped him attack the prison, are they?" Beth whispered.

"Dunno. Can't tell this far away. Goin' t' have t' get uh closer look."

Rosita angled to the side, and pulled a pair of binoculars out of her backpack. "Here," she murmured, "Try these."

Daryl looked at Rosita like she was an idiot for not giving him the binoculars before, and took them from her, looking down at the cabin through them. "They look army t' me."

He handed her the binoculars. A quick glance and she was nodding. "Definitely," she said, passing the binoculars to Beth. She accepted them and looked through. Both men were as big as small bears. They were wearing riot gear. One of them had a sizable scar running from his forehead down to his chin. They both looked mean, but the one with the scar gave Beth the chills.

There was a moaning sound close by. "I'm on it," Rosita said, scooting backwards on her belly, and disappearing. The walker sounds continued for about half a minute, and then stopped abruptly.

Beth was looking back for Rosita to return when Daryl nudged her shoulder. "Look," He whispered.

She jerked her head back toward the valley. The front door of the cabin stood ajar, and she inhaled sharply as the familiar form of the Governor strolled out, next to a reedy thin youngish looking man with brown hair. Beth about jumped out of her skin, as Rosita dropped down beside her, "Hey, I know that guy." She hissed, pointing at the man who had come outside of the house beside the Governor.

"Shhh," Daryl said, showing them that there was another man not far below them and getting closer. Probably doing a perimeter check. Daryl indicated it was time for them to go with a swipe of his hand across his neck. They scooted back on their bellies until they were out of sight, then rose and started back down toward the truck.

Beth waited until she was sure they were out of earshot, and looked over at Rosita. "You said you knew that guy. The one in the black overcoat, or the kid?"

Daryl slowed his pace a bit, his ears perking up upon hearing her voice. Rosita was playing with her ponytail with one hand, and holding her rifle with the other. "The kid. We ran into him driving around with some other guy a few weeks back. They were on some kind of medical run. They tried to get us to come with them. Said they had this place they called Terminex or Terminus or something like that. Haven't you two seen the signs up all along the railroad?"

Beth shook her head, looking to see if Daryl had. "We stayed away from the railroad." Daryl answered.

"Oh. Well, there are all these signs telling people 'arrive and survive' or something like that. That guy's name was Gareth. He told us they have this walled community, supposedly safe from walkers. They're broadcasting on the radio, trying to get the word out that people should come and join them."

"What kind of fuckin' idiot would fall for that?" Daryl asked, over his shoulder.

Before Rosita could answer, Beth said. "Daryl some of our people could have gone there."

"Yeah." Daryl growled, moving closer to the two women, holding his bow in front of him with both hands, pointed lazily at the ground. "Got a bad feeling 'bout that."

Beth agreed. If this Gareth was a part of Terminus, and he was meeting with the Governor he was bad news in her book, regardless of the reason. "They can't be up to any good."

Rosita spoke up, nodding. "I agree. I didn't like that guy. He creeped me out being all overly friendly and calm. It was weird. We considered going, trying to use their radio, but Abraham didn't like it either."

Daryl said. "Good thing too, or ya'd probl'y be dead."

Beth inhaled deeply. "Daryl, we need to go check this out."

He stopped, raising the crossbow up and resting it on his shoulder. His eyes cut around the forest, once, twice, before he looked up at her. "We got t' get whole first. We aint no good t' Rick or the others without a plan, without any resources."

"But.."

He held up his hand, stopping her. "Beth, what if we save 'em? Then what? Where we goin' t' bring 'em? Back to the fuckin' prison? Out in the woods? We need a place. We need food. Need to get you ready, look at ya…"

She looked down at herself, and couldn't find anything particularly wrong. "Just what are you trying to say, Daryl?"

"He's saying your weak. You aren't going to survive out here – even with us watching your back – unless you beef up, get some meat on your bones, and learn how to kick some ass. Hate to tell you this, honey, but he's right."

Beth blinked, caught off guard by Rosita's abruptness and insight. Daryl wasn't arguing with Rosita, and Beth felt herself blushing, and hated herself for being the type of girl who blushed so much. Maybe a tan would help cover it up, but right now it gave her embarrassment away. "Hey, hey, hey" Rosita said, walking up slowly – hands out in front of her – and put her arm around Beth's shoulders. "When the shit hit the fan, I was smaller than you are. Fresh out of boot-camp, barely knew how to assemble a weapon, let alone fire one. If it weren't for hooking up with Abe's bunch, I'd be dead right now. Here's what I know, whatever you did before this – you had a purpose – and now that purpose is changing. That's all."

Beth knew what Rosita was talking about. She'd had that same thought herself. It was time to evolve, to stop being so soft, stop thinking and acting like a child or a mom. She couldn't be either of those things anymore. What she needed to become was more animalistic. More instinctual and calculated, more like Daryl or Michonne. "Ya'll just goin' t' stand there and hug or can we get our asses movin'?" Daryl asked, raising his bow and shooting an oncoming walker in the head.

Rosita detached herself from Beth, gave Daryl a dirty look, and took point down the hill.

….

They arrived at the silo at dusk. "Bad timin.'" Daryl said, jumping off the back of the truck, crossbow in his right hand. He immediately raised it, and killed two walkers stumbling toward them.

They had a small window of opportunity to get ready before the rest of the shambling walkers reached them. The property was tucked back behind a row of brush, making it almost impossible to see from where Beth stood, shivering at the back of the truck. "Didn't she give ya a hoodie?" Daryl asked, glancing over at her while he retrieved his bolts.

Beth nodded. "Well put it on then. Sure miss my pancho."

"Miss a lot of things." Beth said. She was fiddling with the safety of the hand-gun Abraham had given her, replacing her old one. She also had a rifle slung over her back, not that she felt confident she could fire it.

"Miss my tools." He answered, and she smiled a little, realizing he was being playful, probably trying to keep her calm.

"Miss my journal."

"Miss my bike."

"Miss showers." She pretended to smell herself.

Daryl gave her a small smile. "Stay alive, and I promise you a shower tonight."

"Really?" She asked, hope filling her voice.

"Uh-huh. You got that body armor on?"

She shook her head. "For the second time, yes."

He just nodded, and held the gun up. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'm gonna be."

"All right. Stay close."

Abraham met them at the side of the vehicle with Rosita and Eugene in tow. The group faced the walled property. They could see the top of a house peeking over the wall. Walkers were wondering around all over the place. "We move as a group, clear a path to the door, clear the inside, and then once we've checked it out, we'll come back up and kill the rest of them. What do you think?" Abraham asked Daryl.

The archer shrugged, "May be better t' let 'em stay, seems their doin' a good job of keeping people away."

Abraham frowned. "Won't be able to get in and out as freely."

"Won't need t' come back up for runs. Place is stocked."

"You know that how?"

Daryl raised the shot-gun Abe had loaned him, and pulled the trigger, exploding the head of a nearby walker. "Jus' do."

Beth watched Abraham raise an eyebrow before shooting another walker in the head. "If you say so, partner."

Daryl nodded, biting his lower lip. "I'll take point. Beth, stay close t' me."

Beth moved in beside Daryl and clenched the gun in her hands, trying to count the number of walkers between their small group, and the above ground structure of the silo. The sun was setting, giving the walker's shadows, which stretched across the open yard, like giant monsters.

….

Beth was covered in blood and guts, having been close to a walker when Daryl shot it in the head. She could smell the rotting flesh and she was having a hard time keeping her lunch down. She was holding Daryl's bow for him, realizing for the first time just how heavy the weapon was.

The five of them were crouched inside the dark house waiting for Daryl to break the lock on the door that lead to the stairs down to the first floor of the underground silo. He was cussing up a storm, and kept looking over his shoulder to check the window. "Don't worry about the window. I got that. Just get us in." Abe insisted.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," Eugene said, not for the first time.

"I said give me a minute." Daryl answered, his voice carrying a warning tone Beth recognized as him getting ready to go ape-shit crazy if Eugene didn't shut up.

Suddenly there was a clicking sound, a soft whoosh of air and the door popped open. "Fuckin' finally," Daryl said, and took the bow back from Beth. "I'll go first, you follow me," he told her, nodding back at the others.

The stairs were narrow and dark. The flashlight bounced off the white ceiling where Beth saw faded words she couldn't quite make out. She couldn't see the door in front of them because Daryl's shoulders blocked it from her sight. When he stopped, she ran into his back. "M' sorry."

"Don't worry about it. S' dark. Got your knife ready?"

"Yep."

"Here we go." He pushed hard against the door which opened with a groan. He turned to his left and right, crossbow up. "Come on." He said, holding the door open for them with his foot, then shutting it and locking it behind.

They were in a small, empty cement room that smelled like mildew. Daryl shined the flashlight on another door with a picture of stairs on it.

The next flight of stairs seemed to go down forever. "Almost there. Ya all right?" He asked her, probably hearing her labored breathing. Beth was not a fan of small spaces or being underground. She had lived her whole life on a farm, spending most her days trolling around their wide open spaces, and being this far down, under the earth, felt unnatural to her.

"M' okay, just a little claustrophobic."

"Me too. Try breathin' through your nose."

Come to think of it Daryl did sound pretty uncomfortable as well, and it made sense that he wasn't the type that enjoyed being in a deep, dark hole with all that earth on top of him either. She heard another door groan open and they walked into a room that was not what she was expecting.

The ceilings were high in the big wide-open kitchen and dining area. Daryl's flashlight illuminated a thick layer of dust on all the fancy, modern furniture. There were columns around the room, and places where the natural rock came jutting out of the walls. Two hallways branched off on both sides of the common area. Daryl banged his fist on a tall bronze sculpture and a booming sound echoed around the rooms. They waited, weapons drawn, listening for walkers, but after a full minute of eerie silence, they relaxed.

"Well I'll be damned." Abe said, smiling and turning in a full circle.

"Got t' be access t' the generators on this floor." Daryl eyed the hallway on the left. "Goin' t' look around. Stay put." He said, looking at Beth.

The rest of them went directly to the kitchen. Every cabinet was stocked with dry goods, things Beth hadn't seen in at least a year. She was happily eating a piece of chocolate, grinning at the others as they munched on chocolate too, when the lights in the room blinked to life. Less than a minute later Daryl reappeared from the hallway, stopping when he saw them all looking at him. "Found the power control room," he said, thumbing over his shoulder.

Beth smiled at him as he came to stand next to her, looking down at the chocolate in her hands. "Does this mean hot showers?" She asked, feeling optimistic now that the lights were on.

He gave her a short nod, biting the side of his thumb, and accepted the piece of chocolate she held out to him.

….

Beth sat combing her wet hair and looking in the mirror. Daryl had assigned her the master bedroom, which was the size of the entire first floor of the farmhouse, and he'd taken the room next to hers, which had an adjourning door. They had turned the power off after their showers, wanting to conserve the fuel in the generators for as long as possible. They were already planning a trip down into the rest of the silo to see what was down there, and to find the generators. For now, Beth had some time to be alone, to reflect on how drastically her life had changed in the last couple days.

The candle bathed her milky white skin in a golden light, and she was content staring in the mirror, bouncing her curls, braiding little pieces here and there, humming to herself, and thinking about Daryl Dixon way too much. She could almost hear him whispering her name, could almost feel his hot breath on her neck giving her chills, the way his face scratched her skin, tickling almost. Beth didn't know why something as simple as Daryl whispering her name like that made her feel so special. She also didn't understand how all the little things he did felt so big to her. Monumental. Like it was the first time he'd done them and he'd saved them all this time, just for her. Sighing, she pulled her curls and braids back into the pony tail, and put on the sweats and t-shirt, both a couple sizes too big for her, that she'd found in the bureau door.

She ambled over to the bookshelf, running her fingertips over the dusty layer on the obviously unread books. She found herself wondering about the people who chose the books, and if they ever had any intention of reading them. Several titles – in particular – drew her attention_._ There were four books about the katana sword. She looked up and her hand rose to her mouth. Above the books – on the next shelf up – in a glass display case sat a Samurai sword.

She moved a chair over and stood on it, carefully opening the case and extracting the weapon. The minute her hands wrapped around the handle a surge of adrenaline rushed through her. The handle was black, matching the leather scabbard. Carefully, with trembling hands, she pulled the sword out of the sheath, hearing that familiar ringing sound that always came when Michonne was getting ready to take out a walker.

The door burst open. She turned to see Daryl, knife in hand. "What the fuck?" He said, taking in Beth, standing there with the katana.

"You heard me draw it, from all the way in the other room?"

He reached a hand up and scratched his head, giving her a little nod. He approached, his blue eyes giving the katana a reverent inspection. She smelled soap on him, and cigarette smoke – he must have found a stash of smokes somewhere in the house. His hair was a little wet, sticking to his forehead a bit, and there were still drops of condensation on his bare shoulders. He was wearing a flannel shirt, cut off at the shoulder, and a pair of black denim jeans. "Good hearing." He said, gesturing to his ear.

"I'll say. Look what I found."

"That's weird." He said, taking the sword from her, and chewing on his lip.

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"Just is, aint it? You findin' this sword, seems like some kind of fucked up poetic justice, or somethin.'"

She gave him a puzzled look. "An ironic twist of fate?" He tried.

"Okay, I see what you're saying…like me taking vengeance on my daddy's killer with the same kind of weapon he killed my daddy with is kind a like…destiny."

"Pfft, got me, but it's definitely weird."

She nodded in agreement. "So do you think I should do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill the Governor with this sword."

He shrugged, looking down at the sword in his hands. "Way Michonne talked, it takes years to learn how to use it proper."

"There are some books," Beth said, pulling the titles off the shelf and handing them to him. He looked over them before tossing them on the fancy loveseat.

"Got an exercise room perfect for training in."

The optimism in his voice gave her some hope for herself. She beamed at him. He handed her the sword back, dipping his head down low. "Daryl, thank you." She said, hearing her voice heavy with emotion.

"For what?"

"For believing in me, I guess."

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he looked over at the door. "Genius-boy's been talkin' shit 'bout cookin' something. I aint optimistic, but I could eat. You?"

She was about to tell him she wasn't hungry at all when she remembered what Rosita had said about 'beefing up' but she didn't really want to put down the sword, not so soon after discovering it. Looking down at her own wrists, she saw the outline of her bone underneath the black bracelets she used to hide her scars. She set the sword on the bookshelf, grabbed one of the books – about the history of the Samurai sword – and followed Daryl out to the common area.

….

"You look tired, Beth."

"No offense, but so do you."

Daryl and Beth had the common area to themselves. She hadn't seen him all day, and she was happy just to sit back and watch him, but conversation felt nice too. Daryl and Abraham had spent the entire day scouting out the six floors below the one they were living in. The top floor was the only part of the structure that had been remodeled for residential use. They found the generators on the fourth floor down, and enough fuel to last for a while, though Daryl was already talking about making a run for more to ensure they would get through the winter months.

He was sitting in an over-stuffed arm-chair, legs propped up on the footstool, the bow layin' on the table closest to his right hand. Though he looked tired, there was a restlessness about him that was strong enough to charge the air. She was browsing in the Katana book, her socked feet tucked beneath her.

While Abe and Daryl were below, Rosita had taken it upon herself to start Beth on what Rosita called "Rosi's boot-camp" which consisted of a whole bunch of cardio, weight training and exercise. Eugene, noticing her book on the katana, had surprised Beth by declaring himself an expert on the Japanese weapon. He told her to quiz him from her book, and she was delighted to discover that he did know as much – if not more – than what was in the book. He'd already showed her several techniques and she'd spent hours, alone while Gene and Rosi were napping, practicing the motions.

As a result, Beth's muscles ached. She had almost asked Daryl to flip the power on so she could take a hot shower. Instead, she contented herself with rubbing her own shoulder, rotating it in the socket and trying to loosen it up as she read silently to herself.

"Sore?" He asked, breaking at least five minutes of silence. He'd been watching her read through semi-cracked eyes.

She nodded. "A little."

He chuckled. "Give it uh few days. Body'll get used t' it."

"How 'bout you? Climbing all those stairs."

He shrugged. "S'nothin'."

Her heart was racing as she worked up the nerve to ask him something. "Mama had early stage scoliosis. Never let anyone touch her back but me."

He frowned, his lips forming into a thin line but he didn't argue, just grunted. She took that as a 'yes' and got up quick, not wanting to give him time to change his mind. He sat forward, looking awkward as she stepped up onto the ottoman, then onto his chair climbing into the seat, crouching down behind him. She felt him instantly tense up, and his shoulder muscles twitched when she put her hands on them. "Beth…" He said, shifting a little.

"Hush," she told him, finding the first knot in his shoulder and pressing her fingers down into it, rubbing hard to break-up the tough tissue. At first, it was like working with hard clay, but as the knots came out she felt him relaxing back between her legs, his weight coming back on her. Then he did something unexpected. She felt his hot, calloused hands wrap around her calves and he pulled her legs forward. They came to rest on each side of his hips. He started rubbing her calves, and she moaned inadvertently, feeling the tension seeping out of her beneath his big, scorching hands. Then, he was turning slightly, and pulling her in front of him. Like her weight was nothing, he lifted her onto the ottoman in front of his chair – with her back facing him. She felt him sit forward, and his knees came up on both sides of her. He brushed her hair aside, his knuckles sweeping against her skin – his breath on the back of her naked and exposed neck, sending chills down the length of her spine. He rubbed her shoulders, then her upper back, and the sides and back of her neck. Something deep inside started aching, and it was all she could do to keep from moaning. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, tasting blood.

When he stopped, she couldn't help sighing, and leaning back against his chest. Hot hands clamped on her shoulders, and spun her around to face him. His eyes were like moonlight reflected in glacial pools, all dark and shimmering. The fringe of his bangs cut over them, casting his face in shadow. She noticed he was breathing deep. His hands dropped from her shoulders and dug into the tops of her thighs, and he pulled her, and the ottoman, forcibly forward until she was right between his legs. The muscles in his neck strained, and he was chewing fiercely on his bottom lip, looking like he was contemplating something real hard. He swallowed, and slowly peeled his hands off her thighs, fastening them, instead, on the ottoman on both sides of where she was perched. "Stop me." He said, his voice trembling.

She swore there was something predatory about the way his eyes hovered on her bare shoulders, and on her swollen lip still wet with blood from her biting it during the massage. Something about that look made her insides tighten with desire. "Why?" She asked, almost not recognizing her own voice, low and husky. Her entire body vibrating as she restrained herself from touching him.

He inhaled deeply, and his pupils seemed to dilate for a second, before he squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, exposing the smooth curve of the back of his neck – where she noticed a tiny mole she'd never seen before – and the tan muscles of his back. "'Cause I can't seem t' stop myself." He whispered, his voice muffled but the words clear enough.

He was still all locked up around her, and he looked up again, his face inches from her own, his eyes making her feel like she was melting. She had two choices. Kiss him full on the lips, or stop him for his own sake, his own sanity. "All right, if that's what you need." She said, drawing back, knowing she had to put distance between them if she was going to follow through. Something about the way he was begging her to stop him, the way he was opening up to her, reminded her how deeply she cared for him, and his emotional well being. Beth had never wanted someone so bad, but she would wait if he couldn't handle it yet. She didn't want him regretting being with her in that way. Maybe time was the key, and she had the feeling they were going to have plenty of time on their hands, tucked away in their little bunker. She nullified her answer, looking him boldly in the eyes. "I can be patient, Daryl. Just don't pretend like there isn't something happening between us. Don't go back into your shell."

He looked at her with what she thought was newfound respect, and a tenderness crept across his tortured expression. Inhaling deeply, he sat back. She noticed his knuckles were white where he gripped the chair with his hands. "Never cease t' amaze me, Miss Greene."

She smiled, and couldn't help sighing at the cold spot around her where his warmth had just been. "Never gonna stop trying, Mr. Dixon."

….

**A/N:** This chapter was a good lesson for me about leaving well enough alone. I must have played with it for three or four days, trying to get it right. What do you think? How did I do? I'm finding it a fun challenge to have Beth grow, without deviating too much from who she is on the show.

Reviews keep me writing so if you're enjoying this story and you want to see more, please take a minute to give me a review.

Next chapter should be up in a few days. It's already finished, and I'm sending it off to my awesome beta-readers today.

Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**BIG THANKS TO** Rubiredslippers for taking time to review this chapter and send me edits and awesome suggestions! This chapter is for **you** my friend!

Chapter 5

….

"_Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow."_  
― J.M. Barrie, _The Little Minister_

….

Bodies of twice-dead lay strewn in a circle around Beth's feet. After two weeks of intense training and practice she was finally starting to feel comfortable using the sword. It still wasn't easy, and she still felt like an idiot half the time she was practicing the precise strokes of_ laijutsu_, the technique Eugene had been telling her about, but she was starting to feel like the motions were becoming second nature, like riding a bike or driving a car.

Gene never touched the sword, but he had read enough about_ laijutsu_ to teach her what he referred to as "the foundations.'

Beth practiced the routines tirelessly, occasionally late into the night, when everyone – but Daryl, of course – had long since gone to bed. Whenever she had the whim to stay up late practicing, Daryl hovered around the exercise room, or walked the residential level of the silo, checking the locks, and doing whatever Daryl did late at night. He never went to sleep before her, and more often than not they spent their evenings together.

Not only was she getting better using the katana, but she was also learning a lot about the blade. She knew the tip was called the_ kissaki_, the curvature was the_ sori_, and that _tameshigiri _meant 'test-cutting' which was what she'd just finished doing. Daryl came up slowly from behind, clapping softly. She lifted her chin. This was the second_ tameshigiri_, and Daryl hadn't had to help her, unlike last time when she'd lost her grip on the sword inside the chest of a fresh walker, and he'd had to save her ass from nearly getting bit.

Daryl came to stand next to her, and taking his bow in one hand, he ran the tip of his thumb down her right arm. The contact lasted barely a second but she shivered in response. She looked down at her arm where he'd touched her, wanting to confirm it wasn't on fire. Not burning, but it was covered in cuts and scratches, and one deep laceration, on her forearm, that Eugene had stitched up. Training with the katana came with a downside, and the blade had earned Beth's respect.

"Pretty good" Daryl said, "a little sloppy, but ya don't need much grace t' kill a walker."

She frowned. "Sloppy?"

His lip turned up on one side and he looked away. "'M Proud uh ya."

She put her hand up to her ear. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked him, knowing perfectly well what he said. He turned to look at her again. He was wearing black jeans, a black button up shirt, and his leather jacket.

"You heard me." He said gruffly, his eyes flicking toward the wall. They could hear more walkers approaching on the other side of the wall. Eventually they would discover the dilapidated section in the wall, and smell their way to Daryl and Beth.

She nodded. "Thanks," she said. She flicked her wrist, slinging the blade to get the walker guts off before she sheathed it.

"This one still hurt?" He asked, rubbing once with his index finger down the length of her stitches.

She shrugged. "Only when I first start using my arm, then I forget about it."

He grunted in response, dropping his thumb. These little touches were Daryl's new thing. He seemed to be waging some war within himself, only affording himself a tiny amount of physical contact with her each day. His restraint had become something she could see, something she recognized every time he came even remotely close to entering her space. She was forced to exercise a fair amount of restraint herself, and instead of taking his thousand tiny touches a day as an excuse to jump his bones, she found some little way to let him know she liked each and every one.

Sure enough two geeks had found the break in the wall and were shuffling toward where they stood, ruining the moment, as always. "Let's head in." He said, and she felt him press his hand to her lower back, nudging her toward home.

_Home_, she thought. It was funny how this place already felt like home. Before the prison, she'd defined home as a place with four walls, but Beth was starting to realize that home wasn't a place, it was a connection to people – people like Daryl and Rosita, Abraham and Eugene. "What do you think Gene made for dinner?" Beth asked, as she waited for Daryl to secure the door leading down to the second set of stairs.

He shrugged, and turned to follow her down the long flight of stairs. "Dunno. Genuis-boy's making me fat, eatin' all that rich, fancy food, that's all I know."

Beth smiled. Daryl hadn't been complaining this morning when he was stuffing his mouth full of chocolate chip pancakes. Beth had put on weight also, which was a good thing. She needed all the food energy she could absorb in order to survive "Rosi's boot-camp," and training with Daryl, and the katana every day. She was glad that was the only time Daryl left her alone. It was embarrassing getting her ass kicked by a girl who was equal in size to her every day.

Beth flashed back to her conversation with Rosi that morning when they were sitting on the bench in the locker room after a particularly rough work-out. "So, Daryl…" Rosi said.

"What about him?" Beth asked, her heart skipping a beat.

Rosi raised her eyebrows before taking a long swig of water. "Remember when I said he was scary?"

Beth nodded, and smiled. "Sure."

"I take that back. He's actually kind of hot."

Beth bit her tongue grinding her teeth together. She swallowed, fighting to keep the red from coming on. "Hey," Rosi said, swatting Beth's shoulder. "I know he's yours, I was just saying."

Beth's eyes widened and she twisted to look at Rosi, who had a shit-eating grin on her face. The grin was contagious and Beth felt her lips turning up by their own volition. She shook her head, knowing her face was bright red. "He isn't mine."

"Uh-huh, sure. I've seen how he is with you. He might be the type that's hesitant about coming out and saying it, but he's definitely yours, hon."

Beth wanted to giggle and go totally teenager with Rosi, but she found herself having a hard time getting in touch with that part of herself these day, which was likely a good thing. She shook her head, the smile dying on her face. "I don't think Daryl can be anyone's."

Rosita cocked her head, and stood up, eyeing herself in the full length mirror before looking back at Beth. She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and put her hand on her hip. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Beth gave a little shrug. "He's like a wild animal. Possessing him would probably be akin to killin' him."

"Bullshit." Rosita answered.

Beth looked up. "I'm serious. He's damaged, Rosi."

"We're all damaged. And all of us want to be loved by someone. Even your crazy-ass, redneck."

"What about you and Abe?" Beth asked, since they were on the subject of relationships. "Is there something between you two?" Beth had witnessed Abe and Rosi going off to separate rooms every night for bed, and couples usually didn't do that, but she'd also noticed Rosita looking at Abe. Beth thought that look seemed familiar – a lot like the way she studied Daryl when he wasn't looking.

Rosi stiffened at Beth's question, and her eyebrows furrowed. "He had a wife back in Texas. She died before the outbreak. I don't think he's quite ready for someone else."

"But you like him?"

Rosita gave a little nod. "My mother used to tell us – my sister's and I – how when she met our father it was love at first sight, for her, but it took my father a little longer to see things her way." She gave a small laugh. "_Amor a primera vista, mi hermosa Rosita._ Love at first sight," she shook her head, a sad smile softening her expression, "before Abe, I wasn't sure I believed in such a thing. "

Beth swallowed hard. No wonder Rosita was so insightful about Beth's predicament. "Does he know?"

Rosi shook her head. "Are you serious, girl? He doesn't have a clue. Men are so dumb when it comes to stuff like that."

"Are you ever going to tell him?"

"One day, maybe."

Beth empathized with Rosita because she certainly knew how it felt not be seen, truly_ seen_, by the one you loved. But she was also envious of Rosita's resolve to wait – to let Abe come around in his own time – because it seemed to be a choice Rosi was at peace with.

Beth, on the other hand, didn't think she could possibly muster the intestinal fortitude to go another day with telling Daryl exactly how she felt about him. She understood where Rosita was coming from. In the old world it would have made perfect sense to give someone however much time they needed to grieve over a deceased spouse. But the concept of having all the time in the world didn't apply in the zombie apocalypse. These days it was extremely common for a person to be alive and healthy one day, and walking entropy the next.

Daryl opened the door to the common room drawing Beth out of her silent revelry. Her mouth watered, as the smell of something good cooking wafted around her. "Bout time you two showed your faces." Abraham said, winking at Beth as she and Daryl put their weapons on the coffee table. "How'd it go?"

"_Good_." Daryl replied, "Killed 'em all herself this time."

"I'm afraid the ham dried out a bit while we were waiting for you." Eugene said, carrying a tin pan with something steaming inside it to the dining room table. Eugene's knowledge of the culinary arts combined with the exemplary stash of food they'd found – untouched – in the silo, and Beth and Daryl were eating better than they had in a long time.

"Smells fuckin' awesome" Daryl said, taking Beth's hand, and pulling her over to the table. He'd taken to holding her hand a lot, never for any drawn out length of time, but in tiny, frequent spurts. She savored each time, and found herself getting distracted by the heat, and the transference of energy between their calloused hands.

They sat down in the dining room, the five of them barely inhabiting a quarter of the gigantic marble table. Beth ate as much as everyone else. Her appetite had tripled since she'd started training. Abe checked with Daryl by silent nods, before scooping the remaining peas onto his plate. "So, can we go on the fuel run now?"

Daryl sat back in his chair, and put his hands on his belly. His plate was completely cleaned.

"I'm up for it." Beth said, without hesitating. She was dying to get away from the silo for a day or two. Being cooped up underground most of the time was aggravating her claustrophobia.

"You want to think that through?" Daryl asked. He was starting to chew on his bottom lip between sips of the warm beer Gene had found. Daryl's insistence that they give Beth more time to strengthen up, and hone her skills, was the single reason they'd held off on the run as long as they had. He hadn't been content to let her focus solely on the katana either. Instead, he spent at least a couple hours a day teaching her to how to throw her knife, or taking her to the surface for target practice with her hand-gun and rifle.

"I'm ready, Daryl. I _want_ to go on the run."

He shrugged. "Pfft. People in hell want slurpies."

She ignored his outright obstinacy, and continued. "How many years do you want me to stay down here? 'Cause it's going to take me years to master the katana. _Years_, Daryl."

He grunted, and took another swig of beer, not answering her. "Daryl?"

He continued to ignore her, playing with the label on his beer, and looking extremely agitated.

Abe, Rosi and Gene had gone quiet.

"Daryl, would you look at me, dammit."

He flinched, and looked sharply over at her. "The fuck do you want, woman?"

"I want you to stop trying to make me into Rapunzel. Hell, if it were up to you, I'd stay down here all the time."

"And?" He said.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm going, and that's final."

"Ya think so?" He asked, banging the beer down on the table.

"Um…guys." Gene interjected.

"Shut-up" they both told him in unison. She opened her mouth to speak, but Daryl beat her to the punch. "Think you're uh real bad-ass, already, don't you?"

His eyes were icy as he held her in his gaze. She couldn't remember if he had ever looked at her that way before, but she knew she had to hold her ground.

"No. But I think I've earned my right to go."

"Maybe" he said, banging the beer on the table again.

She narrowed her eyes at him. She wasn't going to let him "Daryl" her into submission. "You said yourself I did well today!"

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and then abruptly stood up, knocking the chair back. It hit the floor with a loud bang, echoing around the large chamber. "Come on," he said, grabbing her wrist and practically dragging her out of her seat. She risked a glance back at their companions, as Daryl tugged her from the room. Eugene was giving her a sympathetic look, and Rosita stuffed a roll in her mouth, giving them an eye-roll. She thought she saw Abe mouth the words 'lovers spat.'"

Daryl slammed her bedroom door behind them, and put his hands on his waist, glaring at her.

"Why are you being like this?" She asked, trying to suppress her own anger so she could get down to what was really bothering him.

He gave his head a little shake, his lips forming a thin line.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to talk to me?"

She sighed when he didn't answer, only rocked back on his heels, slowly shaking his head, and crossed his arms over his chest, the leather jacket squeaking in protest. "Can't lose you too." He said in a low voice. "I'm done losing people."

She took a step closer to him, knowing how dangerous that could be. "You aren't going to lose me."

He frowned. "You don't know that."

"I do."

"How?" How could you possibly know that, Beth? You aint fuckin' Sylvia Brown."

She sighed. "I know you aren't going to lose me, because we're going to keep each other safe."

He chewed on his lip, and seemed to be considering her words. "Dunno" He answered, shaking his head, and letting his arms loose.

"Yes, you do. You know we're a good team. You know I'm getting stronger, and getting better with the sword. You can't keep me down here. Not if we're going to find our family. And not if we're going to kill the Governor."

"Fuck the damn Governor."

"And our family?"

"If they're out there, I'll find 'em."

"Alone?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He shrugged. "If I have t'."

"You don't have to. That's my point." She risked another step closer, wanting so badly to wrap her arms around the brute, and comfort him with her body instead words, but knowing he wasn't ready for that she stopped two feet in front of him. "I trust you, Daryl, with my life, and if we're going to be partners, your going have to start trusting me too."

He grunted, folding his arms over his chest, and looked away. "Man can trust someone without likin' the idea of puttin' 'em in danger."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Then why am I learning all this stuff. If you're just going to keep me locked up down here, why bother?"

She waited for him to respond, but instead he was giving her a strange look, starting at her legs and moving up to her face, like he was sizing her up or something. Daryl studying her like that gave her a nervous pit in her belly. He took a step toward her, reached out, and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. He squeezed, and she realized he was feeling her muscle. "That girl's been workin' you pretty hard."

Beth smiled. "Rosita."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, she is, and it's paying off."

"Can see that." He added. He dropped his hand down, looking a lot tired and a little defeated all at once. With a sigh, he plopped down on the sofa, patting the spot beside him.

"Are you going to let me go on the run?"

"Aint up to just me."

She gave him a sarcastic look, and he put up his hands. "All right. All right. Damn. Anyone ever tell ya you're as stubborn as a stone?"

"Well no one's ever put it quite that way, but just about everyone who's met me, yeah." She said with a grin, happy she could now take her seat beside him.

Over the last few weeks, they'd settled into the routine of her reading out loud to him a few nights a week after supper, and sometimes the reading sessions went late into the night. Daryl sat forward and lit the candles on the coffee table, handing her the brand new copy of _Dracula _they'd found in the small library, and were about halfway through. "Do you want to read the guy parts tonight?" She asked him in a teasing voice, opening the paperback to the place she'd left off at, and risking putting her legs across his lap.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't move her off him. "Don't push it, Greene."

She smiled, and opened the book, reading out loud for a good five minutes, until Daryl started tracing a line back and forth across the top of her foot with a fingernail. The words started jumbling together, and she couldn't concentrate on them, so she stopped before she made a fool of herself. "Beth?" He asked, looking a bit perplexed when she'd gone a while without reading. He was still absently rubbing her foot.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you stop?"

"Daryl, I…" She stopped herself. She wanted to tell him there wasn't anything inappropriate about them being attracted to each other, but she knew she had to use the right words. If she said it wrong he might go storming out of the room, rigid with self-control - leaving her with no company for the night. "I just want you to know that I don't care _at all_ about the age difference thing. That kind of stuff doesn't matter anymore, if it ever did."

She felt him sit up a little, and he immediately stopped stroking her foot. "Okay. Why you bringin' that up now?"

She shrugged, and picked at something on her sleeve. "I don't know. Just been thinking about what you said that first night here, and I wanted you to know, I don't agree. I don't think I'm too young for you." The words spilled out of her, and she ignored that little part of her that said she was going too far. "Just in case something does happen out on the run, and I'm not saying it will," she said when she felt him sit up even more. "But just in case anything ever does happen, I want you to know how I feel about you." Beth felt like she was walking a tight rope in seventy mile an hour winds, but she took a deep breath and persevered. "I want you to know that…well…I've… sort of loved you for a long time, since the prison, maybe even before." The last part came out in a fast stutter, and she knew her face was blazing crimson. She made a point to stare at the shiny red wings on the black background of her book.

She felt a little cowardly, not being able to look him in the eyes, but she'd said it. It was finally out. She wanted to tell him that he'd earned her devotion with his loyalty, courage, and his heart of gold, but being all flustered, she wasn't sure it would come out right.

When he did finally speak, his voice was heavy, and full of raw emotion. "For me it was the first time I heard ya sing."

It was her turn to freeze. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She didn't want to speak for fear of breaking the spell, so she waited for him to continue, and he seemed comfortable with her silence. His eyes found hers, and the candlelight gave them that moonlit quality. She felt her heart seizing up in her chest, her palms started tingling and sweating, and it felt like she had a bunch of roly-poly's doing summersaults inside her belly. He reached over, cupping her face with his big warm hand. "Why do you think it was you I was lookin' for when the prison went? Good Lord, Beth, why d' ya think I don't want you on this run? Now I'm thinking this is my punishment for all the bad things I done, having you so close, feelin' this way about you, and not bein' able t' do anythin' about it."

His admission hit her in the stomach like a line drive. Here was Daryl Dixon, telling her – in his own way – that he loved her too. His hand moved up around the back of her neck, and he leaned forward, brushing her forehead with his hot lips. She found her voice again. "That's crazy, Daryl. Thinking I'm God's joke on you, or something."

"Maybe." He released her, and for lack of a better place to put his hands he rested them on her shins. "Or maybe it makes perfect sense."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Nothin.' Nothin' we can do but…" His words trailed off, and he started tracing the pattern in her sweat-pants with his fingertip.

"But what? Were you going to say 'wait'?"

He shrugged. "If age was all it was, maybe, but it aint. No amount uh time is gonna change who I am."

"Good," she said, sitting forward and putting her hand on his shoulder. "I don't want you to change. Not for me. Not for anyone."

He glanced down at her fingers, and inhaled deeply.

"Let's play a little game," she said leaning back, feeling ornery and emboldened because he was actually talking to her about something more than the angle of her wrist when throwing a knife, or the best way to drag a deer carcass while expending the least amount of energy.

He grunted in agreement, but wasn't looking optimistic about her idea. "Okay" She continued, "let's call the game '_comfy_.'"

"Kinda stupid name is that?"

"Daryl, you're interrupting."

"All right, go on."

"Anyways, I'll say or do something and all you got to do back is say whether you are 'comfy' with it or not."

"Beth..."

"Just give it a chance, Daryl."

He sighed, and laid his head back on the sofa closing his eyes. "All right. For uh few minutes."

"All right," she repeated, her heart racing fast as a techno drum beat. "Here's the first one." She leaned forward, felt him stiffen in apprehension of what she was going to do, and felt his warmth as she got closer, brushing her lips against his prickly cheek. "There," she said, dropping back, "Comfy or not?"

He shrugged, opening his eyes long enough to glance over at her before closing them again.

"You got to say one or the other. Comfy or not."

"Don't got t' do anything."

"Come on, don't be a stick in the mud."

He grunted, chewing on that lip. "Comfy." He said, without looking at her.

She felt light as a feather when he said it. "Okay, how about this."

"Hold on." He said, sitting up, and turning toward her a little, adjusting her feet so they hung off the edge of his knees. "I believe it's my turn."

She swallowed. "Okay." Her palms tingled, and started to sweat. Daryl had that predatory quality about his eyes again, and she kind of felt like a pork chop when he looked at her like that. In an instant, he'd transformed from seeming tired and relaxed to staring intently at her with those glinting, arctic blue eyes.

"I can do or say somethin' in this dumb game, right?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Are you 'comfy'" he made air quotes when he said comfy, "telling me if you're a virgin or not?"

Having Daryl ask her such a personal, sexual question made every nerve in her body sizzle, and for a minute everything was spinning. But beneath it all, she was also aware of the possible impact her answer might have on his interactions with her. That's probably why he was asking the question. If she wasn't a virgin, maybe that would change something for him, make him see her more as a woman than a girl. But she couldn't bring herself to lie to him, and she had a feeling he wouldn't believe her anyways. He was waiting on her answer, and she could tell how uncomfortable her silence was making him. She took a deep breath, reaching deep within herself for courage. "Yes. I'm comfy telling you, and yes I am, unfortunately, still a virgin."

She knew she was blushing, and he seemed to be getting real restless, chewing on the edge of his thumb, and occasionally glancing her way. "Unfortunately?" He asked, finally.

She nodded.

"Why's that?"

"Because I feel like knowing that just gives you another excuse not to touch me."

"Pfft. Touchin' you right now, aint I?" He asked, squeezing her calf with his hand. He could almost reach his entire hand around her scrawny leg.

"Don't stop," she said, reaching out for his other hand. He put it out and laid it, palm up, on her thigh. She rested both hands in it. "As long as we don't go backwards, I think we'll be okay."

He grunted at that, looking down at her two tiny hands in his big one, and shaking his head a little. Whether he liked it or not, he was starting to relax with her.

"My turn." Beth said, perking up. Only problem was she had no idea what to say or do to him. She tried to remember Maggie's constant jabbering about Glenn, and stuff that turned him on. Something came to mind and she smiled. He frowned, and ducked his head back a bit, like he could read the evil in her expression. Before he could react, she moved fast as a cat, and straddled him, putting both hands on his chest and leaning in to press her lips against his. The kiss was soft, and he didn't do anything, didn't put his hands on her, didn't even move his lips, but he didn't buck her off either. She let it linger for a few seconds, and then leaned her head back just enough to part their lips. "Beth," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers with the motion, his voice all rugged and thick.

"Play the game, Daryl." She whispered back, and then she was putting kisses from his lips to his ear lobe. She was getting to the part Maggie told her about, when she felt him stirring underneath her, and knowing she could make him stir so quickly, so easily, almost sent her into a frenzy of her own. She licked his earlobe, before drawing back a little, and blowing softly on it.

He groaned, stiffened, and then she was airborne. And he was grabbing the front of her shirt before she hit the ground, pulling her up to a standing position. As soon as she had her balance, he let her go, and took a step backward, almost tripping on the coffee table before righting himself. "So…not comfy, I take it?" She said, tilting her head to the right.

"Goddam right, not comfy." He turned, and stormed out of the room.

….

"Where is he?" Beth hissed at Abe. "He's taking too long. I'm going in." She took a step forward and felt a huge hand grab the back of her bulletproof vest.

Abe whispered vehemently from behind her. "Sorry, little samurai." He'd taken to calling Beth that, and it had stuck when neither she nor Daryl argued with him about it. "You know he'd kill me if I let you go in after him."

"If I were you," she said, trying to twist out of his grasp, "I'd be more worried about me killing you for tryin' to stop me."

"Hey," a husky voice said, "Get your fuckin' hands off her."

Daryl materialized out of the front door, making a beeline for Abe. "Stop" Beth said. Abe let her go, and she stepped between Daryl and Abe. "He was just trying to keep me from chasing after you."

Daryl glared at Abe, but allowed Beth to push him back a bit. "Could uh fuckin' done it without puttin' hands on her."

"Are we talking about the same girl?" Abe asked, nodding toward Beth.

Daryl shook his head, and lowered his bow, glancing at the building behind him. "It's clear. Only one in the back. Took care of it."

"Rosi, help me get those barrels," Abe said, banging on the side of the truck. Rosita opened the truck door, climbed down, and followed Abe to the back of the truck.

"What took you so long?" Beth asked Daryl.

He went over to the truck, and opened one of the many tool-boxes attached to the side of the vehicle. He pulled out some clear hose and a suction cup, and then came back to stand next to her. He stuck the hose and cup under his arm, and fished something out of his pocket. She thought she saw metal glinting between the gaps of his fingers. "Found this, out back, at the edge of the woods."

Beth gasped at the item Daryl dropped in her hand. "It's Maggie's wedding ring" she whispered.

The ring was caked in dry blood and dinged up pretty bad, but Beth would have recognized it anywhere, and if the ring was at the gas station that meant her sister – at least – had made it out of the prison. "Were there…" she swallowed, struggling to get the words out, "any…bodies?"

He shook his head. "Was something else though." He opened his gloved hand and she saw a crumpled square of neon yellow paper. She plucked the paper out of Daryl's hand and unfolded it. _Glenn. Go to Terminus. Maggie,_ the note read in her sister's handwriting. Beth's insides turned to mush and she felt Daryl put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "Ya allright?"

"We have to go. Now."

He shook his head, biting his bottom lip, his eyes flicking from her to where Abe and Rosi were pulling the barrels off the truck, and then back to her again.

"Daryl. If Maggie and Glenn are at Terminus, who knows what could be happening to them right now. We _have _to go."

"I'm going. You're heading back home with them."

"No," she said, feeling the world swirling around her.

Abe and Rosita were each dragging one of the plastic barrels they'd brought for transporting the fuel up to the nearest pump. "Come on," Daryl said, "Let's give 'em a hand."

Reluctantly, Beth followed Daryl over to the pump, and they all worked together to fill the barrels with gas and load them back on the truck. When they were done, Daryl showed Abe and Rosita Maggie's ring, and her note to Glenn. He explained that he planned to go check out Terminus, and see what he could see. Then he would come back to the silo with his intel and they would hash out a plan together. "I'm coming with you." Abe said, "Rosi, you get our little samarai back to home base."

Daryl shook his head. "I'm better on my own."

Beth felt paralyzed, unable to move, unsure of how to stop Daryl, and like everything was happening way too fast. A sense of dread had settled in her belly every since he'd first said he was going alone. Daryl shook his head.

"Have it your way," Abe countered. "Both of you's as stubborn as mules. I'll get you some gear." He stomped off. Rosita followed the big man, who was cursing up a storm under his breath, over to the truck.

Beth felt imprisoned inside her own body, like some invisible force was keeping her from telling Daryl off, and demanding to go with him. "Come here," he said, taking her hand, and leading her a little way from the truck, and into the cover of the trees. Her eyes started stinging. She'd never wanted this, never wanted to watch him walk away, not knowing if he would ever come back. But a little part of her, which had hardened over the last month, understood that they were going to have times like these, times where they couldn't always be together, and she was going to have to learn to deal with being separated from him occasionally. She had dealt with it at the prison, but after having so much one-on-one time with his, this felt a million times worse. "Beth?" He said, drawing her out of her revelry.

She looked up at him, feeling a big, hot tear roll down her cheek. "I hate this." She whispered.

"No different than going on a run." He adjusted his bow, resting it against his shoulder. "Used t' do that all the time."

"Hated that too" she answered, all her filters dropping away. "Hate anytime we're apart."

He blinked, chewing on his lip. "Aint my favorite thing in the world either."

She looked up at him, caught off guard by his confession. "Really?"

"Really. Listen." He said, stepping forward and putting both hands on her shoulders. "You stay with Abe. Stay close to Abe, 'kay. "

"I will." She muttered, reaching up between his arms to wipe the tear off her cheek.

"Promise me you won't leave the silo."

"For how long?" She asked, frowning at him.

He dropped his hands off her shoulders, focused on something in the distance for a moment, then flicked his gaze back to her. "As long as it takes."

"How long, Daryl?"

He shrugged. "Couple uh days, but if it takes longer don't take that as an invitation to come lookin' for me."

"I will come looking, you know. I'm not just going to sit in that hole and rot."

He smiled a little, letting the crossbow fall forward into both hands. "I'll be there. Just promise you'll wait, underground, 'till I come back."

She had a thought, and despite the uncertainty she felt about him leaving, she risked voicing it. "I'll promise to stay in the silo until you come back, if you promise to try being with me…completely…when you do."

Daryl raised his crossbow, and shot a walker that had just come within range. When he lowered the bow, he didn't embrace her again. "That aint fair."

"Feels fair to me." She answered, shrugging.

"Beth, it aint the same thing at all."

"Sure it is. You're asking me to do something that I'm completely uncomfortable with, asking me to watch you walk away, not knowing if I'll ever see you again,_ and_ on top of that, you're asking me to wait for an unknown amount of time for your return. All I'm asking is that you try. Can't you try, for me, Daryl?"

He let out a big breath, and they heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the truck. She was looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Abe and Rosi coming back, when Daryl scooped her up with both arms, and held her with her feet dangling off the ground, their bodies pressed together. "You win," he whispered gruffly in her ear, "I promise."

He sat her down slowly, and she let her arms drape up around his neck, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize his smoky smell. He leaned in, his blue eyes glistening and searching hers for permission. She nodded quickly, seeing movement off to his left. But she felt his lips touch hers, and she forgot her own name. The kiss deepened, he tightened his hold on her back, and a moan escaped her lips when she felt his tongue flicking gently over her lips, slightly parting them. It was the most passionate kiss Beth had ever had, and it was over way too quick.

"You owe me a carton of cigarettes." She heard Abe telling Rosita as they got closer, and Beth heard the whoosh of a knife fly by her head, followed by the sound of a walker hitting the ground not too far away from where her and Daryl were clasped together.

Daryl released her slowly, looking down into her eyes as he did, and she saw from his expression that he was waiting on something from her. "Okay. I promise I'll wait for you in the silo." She said in a sing-song voice.

He nodded, and turned to take the pack Abe was holding out to him. He hooked the pack on his shoulder, walked a few feet, stuck his boot on the neck of the walker he'd shot, and tore his bolt out. He wiped the bolt off, loaded the crossbow, straightened, and turned to give Beth one last look, before heading into the forest, holding his bow in front of him.

Beth was shaking, as she watched him disappear. "You know, I feel sorry for anyone who is stupid enough to get in the way of him ensuring you keep that promise." Abe said, and he clapped a hand on her shoulder.

Rosi came up next to them and smiled over at Beth encouragingly, "He'll be okay. Don't worry. If anyone has the potential to grow old in this world, it's your redneck."

….

It had been four days. Four long, torturous days of waiting for him to come back to her. Two days ago Abe, Rosi and Gene had given up trying to hide that they were actively working together to keep her busy. It was like that weird suicide watch after the incident at the farm, where everyone was treating her weird, and watching her all the time, expecting her to erupt at any moment. "It's your shift." Abe said to Rosi as she walked into the common area, rousing Beth from her dark and panicky thoughts.

Rosi groaned. "Already? I was gonna read a magazine."

"Haven't you read every damn magazine in the house, already, woman."

"Actually, she hasn't. I found a whole storage bin of untouched magazines in the linen closet" Gene added "I placed them on your bed, Rosi."

She smiled at him, before turning to scowl at Abe. "We just finished boot-camp an hour ago. She could use a rest."

"That was all of three hours ago, Rosi. She's been standing there looking at that door for at least two."

"And_ she_ can hear you talking about her like she aint in the room." Beth muttered, casting a glare over her shoulder at them.

It was true. She had taken to leaning against the kitchen counter, watching the door. She couldn't be in her big bedroom without him. She'd tried that first night, but seeing the shiny copy of _Dracula_ on the coffee table, and looking at that couch they always shared made her want to cry, so she'd been sleeping on one of the big overstuffed leather couches in the sitting room.

Four days. The numbers ran through her head for the thousandth time. She'd bugged Eugene until he'd pulled out all their maps and shown her where he thought Terminus was located; a junction where several sets of railroad tracks met. They'd measured the distance from the silo to Terminus to be, roughly, twenty two miles. The terrain had some elevation changes which would increase the travel time, and adding the walkers into the equation, it should have taken Daryl approximately nine or ten hours - one way, which made him overdue. She inhaled deeply, feeling the other's eyes on her back. "I can't do it." She said, "I can't wait any longer."

"This again?" Abe groaned.

"There are too many variables to know for sure about our time estimates, Beth," Eugene said, "I believe your archer is still well within a safe timeframe."

She was holding up four fingers, and turning to show them, when they heard a bang from the stairwell above. Beth instinctually dove across the room and, in one extended motion, had her sword out. The others were reaching for their weapons as well. "Get back in the hallway." Abe told them.

They all backed slowly over to the hallway, hearing the sounds of footsteps coming down the second set of stairs. Beth's heart was racing, and her palms were sweating into the hilt of her sword. She heard a whistle, and lowered her blade, thrusting it into the sheath, and quickly slung the strap over her shoulder. "It's him. It's Daryl." She said, and then she was running across the expanse of the common area, arriving at the door just as it busted inward.

Glenn stood in the doorway, blinking and holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the lights. He was dressed in black riot gear, his hair was oily, and his face was smudged, but he looked whole otherwise. His arm was wrapped under Daryl's shoulders, obviously helping the man stand. Beth gasped as she saw blood dripping out of Daryl's boot and onto the marble floor. The archer's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward. Time slowed down, and she sprang into action, leaping forward and placed her body in front part of him before his head hit the floor.

….

"Doing okay, Beth?" Glenn's reassuring voice came from the open doorway, and she blinked up at him, not realizing he'd been standing there watching her.

She ignored him, blinking back fresh tears, remembering all the awfulness. Daryl almost bleeding out on the marble floor, waking up and talking gibberish as they fished the bullet out of his belly with a hooked hanger. The way he'd guzzled the whiskey she encouraged him to drink, and how he writhed silently, in her arms, biting down on a bunch of fabric, as Glenn cauterized the bullet wound. He'd passed out then, and he hadn't woken up since.

Beth wasn't sure how many hours it had been since they bandaged him up, and transferred him to her bedroom. It was hard to get a sense of time down deep where you couldn't see the sky. She had lain right down beside him on the bed, her hand resting on his heart, and she hadn't moved. Her pillow was damp from crying into it. She'd whispered his name a hundred times, begging him to come back to her, and she'd prayed, prayed for him to open his eyes. She'd sung to him until her voice was hoarse. "It's been hours." Glenn commented. She'd already forgotten he was standing there, and jumped a little, startled by his voice. "You need to eat and rest. I can stay with him for a while so you can take a break."

She didn't move, just squeezed her eyes shut and wished that Glenn would go away, wished he'd leave them alone. After a while, she looked up and saw her brother-in-law was gone, having pulled the door shut behind him.

Maybe later, after Daryl woke up, she would want to hear what happened, how he found Glenn, who the girl was that followed Glenn and Daryl into the silo – she looked familiar, but Beth couldn't place her, and if there was any news about the others, about Maggie and Judith. But right then, she didn't care about any of it. Right then, all Beth cared about was Daryl waking up.

She must have fallen asleep because she felt movement and blinked her eyes open, seeing the candles were burned down to nubs. Then she heard Daryl say her name, and she shot up, leaning over him, her hair draping over his chest.

"Hi." She said, her voice sounding rough with hoarseness.

He reached up, pinching a loose ringlet of her hair between his thumb and index finger. "You kept your promise." He said, and his hands slipped into her hair. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down, till her head made a tent around their faces, and their lips were inches apart. "And I intend to keep mine." He whispered, before lifting his head off the pillow and touching his lips to hers. She thought she heard soft knocking, but she ignored it and focused in on those – finally open – blue eyes, how soft his lips were pressed against hers, and how warm and alive his body felt under her.

A throat cleared from the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?" She heard Glenn ask. She was pulling away to turn and look at Glenn, when she heard Daryl give a low growl, and his other hand came up to cup her chin, keeping her from looking away. His pressed a series of soft kisses on her lips, eyes open and looking into hers, before he released her, and she turned around to face Glenn.

"You wanna take a fuckin' picture?" Daryl asked Glenn.

"Sorry," Glenn said, grinning wildly at them.

"Whatever. Shut the goddam door." Daryl waved Glenn off.

Glenn nodded at Beth, and backed out of the doorway, closing the door behind him. "That wasn't very nice." She said, smiling down at the wounded archer.

"Took a bullet for that idiot t' day. He can give us a minute. Now where were we? Come 'ere."

….

**A/N:** This was a really long chapter for me, but I really enjoyed working on it, especially the strong Bethyl scenes, and the back-story and reveal about Abe & Rosi (which was Rubiredslippers suggestion).


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**My immense appreciation goes out, once again, to **Rubiredslippers for donating her time to beta-read this chapter, for helping me keep characters canon, and for inspiring me to keep going!

**A/N:** This chapter has heavy smut!

Chapter Six

_We are consumed by your anger__  
__and terrified by your indignation.__  
__You have set our iniquities before you,__  
__our secret sins in the light of your presence.__  
__All our days pass away under your wrath;__  
__we finish our years with a moan._

_Psalm 90:7-9_

….

Beth was sitting beside Glenn on the couch when she was struck with a totally random memory. Maggie was walking beside her, thirteen or fourteen year old Maggie with her with her tan skin, and short, choppy brown hair, denim overalls, a smile too big for her face, and her tom-boy personality. Beth remembered the moment like it was yesterday; the cloistering heat, the pale wispy clouds deceptively tricking you into thinking the day might eventually cool off. They'd ventured to the creek in the woods. The two of them stripped down to their skivvies and spent hours catching craw-dads – Maggie chasing Beth around the puddles, crawdads in hand – threatening to put one in Beth's bed that night if she didn't start helping. They'd stayed out way too long, both of them accidentally falling asleep, sunning, on a rock after being in the water all day. When they woke up it was getting dark. By the time they had collected their spoils from the make-shift crawdad trap Maggie had made, and set off toward home, the sun was going down. The darkness of the forest, its thick canopy keeping out whatever light the moon offered, disoriented them both, and they soon realized they were lost. After hours of wandering, they ended up cuddled together against a tree trunk, Maggie comforting Beth with stories about Christmastime, and kissing boys at the roller-rink. Just before dawn they saw flashlight beams, and heard howling dogs, and then their daddy was scooping them up in his arms, his face white as a sheet, and telling them everything was going to be okay.

It was a painful memory, and not having Maggie there to memorialize it with her, put a large lump in Beth's throat. Maggie, that brave, tan-brown, craw-dad catching bohemian girl was gone, and all Beth had left was Glenn, sweet Glenn, to connect to her sister. She looked at him, and saw that the man who sat in front of her was only a shell of his former self. This Glenn barely resembled the happy-go-lucky, inventive twerp she remembered first meeting back at the farm. Instead, he looked hard, tired, and distraught.

In hushed tones, with Daryl sleeping only ten feet away, Glenn had explained what happened.

First he admitted to her that, Tara, the young looking brunette who had followed him and Daryl into the silo, was originally with the group who helped the Governor attack the prison. Beth's first reaction to learning this was anger but then Glenn explained that Phillip had lied to Tara, lied to everyone. He'd tricked Tara and her sister into fighting at his side. Tara lost her sister in the battle at the prison, and others loved ones. Glenn believed she wanted to die herself – disgusted with herself for her part in what happened at the prison. The way Glenn told it, Tara had saved his life more than once since they escaped the prison. Beth considered Glenn's words, and her temper cooled. At least Beth could still hope that her own sister was alive out there somewhere. She also knew how manipulative the Governor could be. He'd fooled an entire town into following him, good people like Sasha, Tyreese, Karen, and even Andrea.

Then Glenn got to talking about Maggie – and cried a little – telling Beth how they were separated. He confessed that until Daryl told him about Maggie's wedding ring, and the note, he had almost lost hope of ever finding his wife.

Glenn had searched for Maggie relentlessly, until he and Tara were captured by a group of prison inmates, led by a guy named Joe. They were held by the group for two days, and in that time Glenn was beaten, and Tara was raped. His eyes glistened over as he described not being able to help Tara, and confessed to feeling guilty because at the time he was thankful that it was Tara and not Maggie it was happening to. Beth thought she understood, and her heart went out to the young girl, and to Glenn, for being in such a horrifying predicament.

In the old world, they could have taken Tara somewhere for help, but in this world there weren't systems set up for helping a young woman cope with such a violation, and there probably never would be again. For now, the only thing they could do for Tara was to keep her safe, perhaps offer her friendship, a non-judgmental ear, and a shoulder to cry on. Beth didn't know if she could provide those things to a girl who was on the side that brutally murdered her father – but she decided she would talk to Rosi about it and, between the two of them, they would see what they could.

Glenn told her that when he woke up the second morning in the inmate's camp, he overheard them discussing killing him and Tara, because they were slowing the group down. Glenn said he was sure he was going to die that day. Later, when they were traveling through the forest, a herd of walkers crossed their paths. Joe's group was dealing with the herd, when a bolt flew through the trees, and landed in Joe's skull, killing him instantly. In the chaos that followed, Daryl – with the assistance of a couple dozen undead walkers - finished off Joe's entire group. When the last inmate standing aimed his gun at Glenn, whose back was turned dealing with a walker, Daryl saw what was coming. The archer pushed Glenn out of the way, flung his knife at the shooter, killing the other man instantly, and got himself shot in the process.

She looked up at the man sleeping in the four poster bed. Maybe Daryl really _was_ an angel disguised as a human being. He was certainly the bravest man she'd ever known, not to mention the toughest.

Daryl was lying on his back covered from the waist down with a sheet. A large white bandage was wrapped around his abdomen, and a flower of blood was seeping through the gauze. His forehead was covered in dots of moisture, and every few minutes he stirred, restlessly, mumbling in his sleep.

Beth contemplated going to ask Abe to turn on the generator for a little while, so they could run the air conditioners. But not wanting to leave Daryl long enough to relay the request, she rose from her seat beside Glenn, snagged a magazine off the coffee table, and climbed up on the bed beside the sleeping man, careful not to jolt him. She started fanning him, hoping that cooling him off would help him rest better.

She felt Glenn's eyes on her, and sensed him standing up. He came to stand at the end of the bed putting his hand up on the bedpost. She saw his knuckles were scabbed up, and there was a discoloration darkening his left eye. "Why don't you go get some sleep, Glenn? There are a couple spare bedrooms, Rosi can show you. Just pick whichever one you want."

He nodded, swallowed hard, turned to walk out, and then stopped and turned back to face Beth. "So I'm just going to come out and ask," he said. "Are the two of you …together…now…like _together_?" He emphasized the last word.

Beth took a deep breath. She'd been expecting this, but she felt a little uncertain about how to proceed. She didn't even fully understand the parameters of her relationship with Daryl yet, and she certainly wasn't prepared to explain it to someone else. But there was one thing Beth was certain about. "I do love him, Glenn." She said, casting a look down at Daryl.

Glenn's eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure Maggie, or your father, would approve."

She swallowed. "Maggie's gone, and daddy's dead."

Glenn looked down at his hands, and gave a little nod. "It's not really my place, Beth, I know, except I feel like Maggie would want me to… you know…make sure you know what you're getting into or something…I don't really know what I'm trying to say..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

Beth was not a fool. She knew Glenn was just trying to do right by her, but she wasn't a little girl anymore either. Hell, she really wasn't the same person Glenn remembered at all. Her zeal to destroy her father's murderer combined with her time with Daryl, had helped her grow up.

She sighed, giving him a small smile. "I appreciate your concern, I really do, but you don't have to worry about me." She smiled, thinking of something her sister said once about Glenn after the first couple months they'd been together. "You know, Glenn, Maggie once told me that being with you was like eating overripe peaches on a hot Georgia day. That's how _he_ makes me feel, because _he's_ the one for me." She pointed lovingly down at Daryl. "He would never hurt me, and he's proven, time and again, that he's an honorable man. You owe him your respect, Glenn, not to mention your life."

Glenn stood frozen for a moment, and then he gave her a little smile. "Just like your big-sister, wise beyond your years." He said, affectionately.

….

After Glenn excused himself to get some rest, Beth laid back and thought about Daryl. As if he was reading her thoughts, he took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered open. "Beth?"

When he saw her lying beside him, he sighed in relief, and wrapped his warm arm under her neck, pulling her closer, until she was pressed against his body. She was careful not to come in contact with the wound, not wanting to cause him any additional pain. They'd doped him up with whiskey and morphine, but - like Abraham had commented earlier– even a horse tranquilizer wasn't going to have much of an effect on Daryl Dixon. "I'm right here," she said, reaching up to brush the back of her knuckles against his furry chin. "You okay?"

She felt him nod. "Shitty dream, that's all."

"D'ya want to tell me about it?"

She felt his hand stroking her hair. "Nah," he replied, "you got enough nightmares of your own."

He adjusted a little, and she tucked her cheek against his chest. His renewed steady breathing, combined with her utter exhaustion, put Beth right to sleep.

….

"Wake up." A voice demanded.

Her hand reached instinctively for the katana she kept under her pillow. She had a decent grip on the hilt before a warm hand locked firmly down on her wrist, stopping her from drawing the blade. She opened her eyes to see Daryl leaning over the bed, dripping wet, a fresh bandage wrapped around his abdomen, and a towel around his waist. "Must uh been a bad one," he said, releasing her wrist "heard you from my room."

"'M sorry," she said, relaxing her hand and letting go of the weapon. She stretched, and glanced at the candles – her only way of telling what time it was. They had burned out during the night. She must have been sleeping for a long time, and she was surprised she hadn't even noticed Daryl untangling himself from her, or his absence while he was showering.

She caught the smell of food cooking in the other room. "Glenn told you what happened?" He asked, watching her stretch.

She pushed up into a sitting position, drawing her knees to her chest, and yawned. "Yeah, it sounded pretty awful. If it wasn't for you, they'd both be dead right now."

He grunted, and went over to the coffee table, picking up their shiny copy of _Dracula_. She watched his muscles move as he turned and walked back over to her, giving her a smoldering look. She cocked her head, studying him. There was something different about him today, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It sort of looked like a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn't fidgeting as he stood there openly staring at her. "'M hungry," he said, at last, breaking the lingering eye contact. "Goin' t' get dressed. See ya in there?" He asked, tossing the book on the table, on his way over to her side of the bed.

"Uh-huh," she said, stretching and yawning. "Is the water still on?" She asked.

He nodded. "But ya better hurry 'fore Abe shuts off the power."

She draped her legs over the side of the bed, about to get up, when he came closer and leaned over her, putting an arm on either side of her, trapping her in place. There was something like adoration in his azure eyes as he studied her. Feeling a little self-conscious with Daryl looking at her like that – she was relieved when he leaned in, and kissed her. She kissed him back hungrily, reaching up and sliding her hands into his wet hair, running her fingers through it. His lips wandered down and he was kissing her chin, then her neck. His precise, and unexpected, control of her body caused her pulse to speed up with anticipation. Then his mouth was tracing light kisses along her collarbone. His kisses went further down to where her shirt showed a glimpse of the swelling of her breast. His wet hair brushed against her as he sucked some of her skin between his lips, and flicked his tongue back and forth over the taut spot. She felt her breath leave her body. "Ouch." He said, straightening up.

"Oops, sorry," she said, realizing how much strain he was putting on the healing wound, leaning over her like that.

"Don't be. Was worth it."

He left her then, and she flopped back on the bed, feeling all stimulated, and frustrated. Her fingertips ran across the spot between her collarbone and breast. She looked down and got a sudden thrill of excitement when she saw a purplish mark forming on her skin where Daryl's mouth had just been.

….

Beth trudged to the showers. For some reason she couldn't define, the Governor was heavy on her mind. She guessed it had something to do with Tara, and wondering how many lives the Governor had destroyed since the outbreak began. She turned the shower on, hot as it would go, and sat, naked and cross-legged, under the water. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep out the visualization beginning to take shape in her mind. Despite her best effort to ignore it, the blurriness of the memory continued to clarify, taking shape in her mind. Then, the shattered fragments came together all at once, and through rose-tinted vision, she saw that shiny silver blade, so like her own sword, slicing downward, over and over again. A cloud of steam enveloped her, and turned her pale skin red as an apple, but the adrenaline coursing through her body dulled the sensation of pain. Time slowed, and the water cascaded around her, and Beth barely noticed when it ran cold, and then icy, and eventually ran out. She sat on the shower floor, arms wrapped around her knees, panting and shaking, afflicted with the strongest fit of wrath she'd ever had.

….

"Thought maybe you fell asleep in there," Daryl commented, as she joined the others in the formal dining room.

The massive white marble table looked anything but formal, now, with Gene's maps, diagrams, and research spread out all over the place, empty beer bottles from previous nights, half drunken coffee cups, and plates from everyone's breakfast strewn across it. None of them were very good housekeepers. Beth had been too busy, and too unwilling to revert to old habits, to clean the place up. She realized she was becoming fond of the clutter anyways. It gave the sterile room a comfortable, lived in quality.

The girl, Tara, was the only one not sitting at the table. Instead, she was tucked into one of the overstuffed chairs, not far away, in the common area. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, which were pulled up to her chest. She was staring with glazed eyes at one of the bronze statues. Beside her, propped against her chair, was a black assault rifle. The girl didn't look well, her skin was pale in contrast to her brown hair, her cheeks were hollowed out, and she had black bags under her eyes.

Abe and Rosita were sitting next to each other at the table, across from where Daryl was perched - cleaning bolts. Rosi had her boots propped up on the table, with a magazine in her hand, her hair in its usual high pony-tail. Abraham was cleaning guns, and had a whole section of the tabletop devoted to a variety of weapons and boxes of ammunition. Interspersed amongst the deadlier items, were all kinds of cleaning tools and dirty rags. Gene was reading a big reference looking book. Its title was in another language. Arabic, maybe, she guessed. Glenn was standing at the far end of the table near Gene, leaning over the maps. He was dressed in new tan slacks, and a white t-shirt. She noticed a loose bandage around his upper arm she hadn't seen before. He was holding a mug of coffee, his attention focused on the maps. He glanced up, and smiled at her. She gave him a weak smile back, and took her place in the empty chair next to Daryl, reaching for a muffin.

Daryl was working quietly on getting the bolts he had left clean, a half-eaten muffin forgotten on the table in front of him. He looked strangely like Glenn's twin, also dressed in tan slacks and a white t-shirt. They must have raided the same dresser. His leather jacket was slung behind him on the chair, and the crossbow was taking up its own space on the table beside his plate. He shook back his hair, and peeked up at her, like he could feel her staring at him. Their eyes met and he frowned, tilting his head to the left a bit. She understood the head-tilt thing was Daryl's way of asking if she was okay. She gave him a small nod.

Beth started pinching pieces off the muffin, rolling them into little balls between her fingers before tossing them in her mouth. It was nice eating freshly baked food again. Thanks to the generator they were able to run the electric stove twice a day, and after almost a month, they hadn't made so much as a dent on the silo's food stash. Nothing tasted quite the same without real cow's milk, but the muffin was edible and didn't taste too bad.

There had been talk about trying to find a way to keep some livestock on the next level down, maybe some cows, goats, and a chicken or two, but obviously that couldn't be their priority now – even if they could find farm animals that the walker's hadn't gotten to yet. Eugene had suggested they add books about hydroponics to their wish list, if they ever came across a library that wasn't burned out, or chalk full of undead.

She turned to Daryl. "Tell me about Terminus."

At her mention of Terminus everyone around the table went rigid. The hair on Beth's arms stood on end, and the muffin balls suddenly felt like pebbles going down her throat. Obviously they all knew something she didn't, and it from the looks of it, it wasn't anything good.

"Place is a goddam nightmare" Daryl growled, "Barely got my ass out uh there."

Her hands were tingling. "The others?" She asked.

He shook his head, glancing up to meet her eyes before answering her, "Nah…didn't see 'em. Don't mean they aint there. Place was massive, lots uh places to hide people. Coulda missed 'em."

A feeling of anxiety settled in Beth's gut. "What aren't you telling me?"

He looked up at her, chewing on his lip, like he was trying to decide whether to tell her or not. Finally he blew out a large breath. "It's bad, Beth. Ya sure ya want t' know?"

"Of course I wanna know." She said, swallowing hard.

He shook his head, and his lips formed a thin line. He glanced up at Glenn, then back down to the bolt he was cleaning. "Got uh bunch of real life Hannibal fuckin' Lecter's on our hands."

Beth's eyebrows furrowed inward. Glenn must have seen, because he sighed loudly and translated. "The people who run Terminus are cannibals, Beth. They lure people in, trap them in box-cars, and eventually they eat them."

Beth dropped the muffin on the table. The taste of bile filled her mouth. She felt Daryl looking at her. It was all she could do to keep from running to the sink and tossing up her breakfast. _Don't lose it Beth_, she told herself, _do not lose it in front of Daryl_. She couldn't give the archer any reason to think she was weak – or he might regress to his old ways, thinking he was protecting her, and she'd probably never see the light of day again.

Strangely, the red seemed unprovoked by the disturbing news. "So what's the plan?" She asked, when Daryl didn't offer anything else.

Abe put his gun on the table, and smiled sadly at her. Rosi glanced up from the magazine, but looked back down. Daryl sniffed next to her, but didn't answer either, opting to feign interest in his bolts. Glenn looked unsure of what to say. It was Gene who finally spoke. _"He will repay them for their sins and destroy them for their wickedness." _

"Psalm ninety-four, twenty-three" Beth replied, without even having to think about it. She knew her bible verses. "But that verse refers to _God's_ vengeance against wicked men."

Gene nodded. "Malachi three, one: _Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before Me_."

He turned, and looked pointedly at Daryl. Realization dawned on Beth. Apparently, she wasn't the only one that saw the archer's angelic qualities. They were all looking at Daryl, and Beth felt herself getting goose bumps. He ignored them, probably hadn't even heard them talking from the looks of it. She knew he had a tendency to zone out when Gene was pontificating. But she was sure Daryl had heard her question. Eventually he looked up, noticing the lapse in conversation, and saw all eyes in the room on him. He sat forward, his eyes blazing with controlled rage. "World's got enough flesh eaters with the dead goin' 'round eating people. Way I see it, we only got one choice, and that's t' go kill every last one of those fuckin' savages."

Her heart started racing in her chest. Something had definitely changed in Daryl. Gone were the days where he took orders from other men. This was _his_ family, _his_ responsibility, _his _world, and he wasn't taking the heinous crimes of Terminus' people lightly. Instead, he was literally taking charge, with righteous indignation, and his heart of gold, guiding him. When Daryl spoke now, he commanded attention, and they all listened intently while he told them his plan. When he was done, Beth had one final question. She _had_ to know if Daryl's plans included her archenemy. "And the Governor?" She asked, before anyone else spoke.

He nodded, and his eyes locked on hers. "He dies first."

….

They spent the entire day, and late into the night, finalizing their plans.

Tara had fallen asleep in her chair hours before they finished, and Rosita was softly snoring, laid back in her chair, boots kicked up on the table, the rim of her army-cap covering her eyes.

Abe announced it was past everyone's bed time, and stood up – motivating the others (all except Rosita and Tara) to do the same. Beth's heart softened as Abe bent down, scooped Rosita up in his arms, like she weighed nothing at all, and carried her off to her bedroom. She looked over at Daryl, and saw him watching her reaction to Abe's romantic gesture. He was probably thinking she was an idiot for getting all mushy about a 'damn romance novel,' but Beth honestly didn't care because there was something so touching about the way Abe carried Rosi in his arms, like he was the luckiest man alive just to be holding her. Beth decided she was going to give Rosita a little push to tell Abe how she felt the next time they had a chance to talk in private.

She turned to see Glenn draping a blanket over Tara, his face brimming with concern. They're eyes met and Beth gave him a small smile. He was right to be worried. Tara was traumatized and justifiably unstable. Beth wondered if they should put the girl on suicide watch. She knew from personal experience how much better death looked when you'd lost all hope.

Glenn looked over at Daryl, and rubbed his palms on his pants. "I never got to thank you, man, for yesterday…for everything you did for us." He held his hand out for Daryl to shake.

Daryl was avoiding Glenn, his eyes drifting around the room and landing, finally, on her. She gave him a small smile, encouraging him to be nice.

Daryl sighed, and shook Glenn's hand. "Not a problem, brother. It's what we do." Glenn blinked, looking a little caught off guard. Daryl let go, and looked down at the ground, chewing on his lip. Then he was yanking his bow off the table, swiping his hand around his bolts, and stalking out of the room, muttering something about people always wanting to thank him for shit.

It had been ten minutes since they all went off to bed, and Beth was just starting to worry that Daryl wasn't going to show. It wasn't like they'd planned anything, but had had still been hopeful – especially after how affectionate and open he'd been since he got back - that he'd come to her room. Her eyes were drooping, and the words in her magazine were blurring together, when she heard a soft knock on her door. "It's open," she whispered loudly.

Daryl entered a second later. She perked up, unable to contain her happiness that he was standing there wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue sweatpants. There was a fresh bandage wrapped around his torso. Maintaining the new confidence he seemed to have where she was concerned – where everything was concerned - he strode over to the bed. He looked her over, eyes feasting on her. She was in panties and a white tank-top, the sheet pulled up over her hip. He patted the bed beside her, and then jumped on it sideways, positioning himself very close to her. She put the magazine she was reading down, and turned on her back, looking up at him. He was on his side, propped up on his elbow. He reached out, and started stroking her exposed skin, between her shirt and the sheet. "Feel like I owe you an apology, Beth." He started, after several minutes of silent tension that had built between them, while their only point of focus was watching his hand grazing back and forth across her skin, giving her waves of goose bumps.

She frowned. "For what?" She asked, having a hard time concentrating on anything but his fingers softly stroking her skin. She knew she shouldn't get her hopes up about it leading to anything else, even if he'd promised to try, but she still delighted in his rare boldness.

"Saw those pricks had Glenn, and found myself wishin' you were there, feelin' like a moron for letting us get separated." She turned to face him, propping up on her elbow also, and his eyes came to rest heavily upon her own. He continued, "Remember what ya said the other day 'bout the two uh us keepin' each other safe?"

"Yeah," Beth said, noticing his roaming hand had come to rest on top of her hip. Heat pulsated through that region of her body.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low she had to lean in to hear him. "Know now that I'm better with ya, than on my own."

"So no more leaving me behind?"

He gave his head a little shake, chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes darting down to her body, where her breasts were pushed tight against the tank-top. His eyes slid further down to where his hand was resting on her hip, then darted back up to meet hers. She saw that hunger in his expression again, only this time she couldn't help shuddering at the conviction behind it. "Is that all?" She risked asking, surprised to hear her own voice mirroring his low, sultry tone.

He shrugged, looking away again. "Nah…was wrong 'bout uh couple uh other things too."

"About us?" She asked, feeling her chest tighten against her speeding heart.

His hand drifted beneath the sheet, and onto the fabric of her panties. "'Specially 'bout us."

He leaned in slowly, and she felt his hot breath against her cheek, and then he was kissing her, his hunger reflected in the way he inhaled sharply, his lips pressing hard against hers. She was having difficulty forming coherent thoughts, and instead of an answer, all she could give him in response was a moan.

"Think I know what you want, and Lord knows I want it too, but ya gotta be sure, darlin.'" He whispered huskily next to her ear, his lips finding her skin again as soon as the words were out.

She swallowed. Daryl calling her 'darlin' and simultaneously asking permission to finally take things to the next level, made Beth jittery with anticipation. She knew they were about to embark on unexplored territory, into the realm of her deepest, darkest fantasies, and her body trembled in anticipation. "I've never been so sure about anything in my life…" she whispered, and then her eyes fell on the gauze wrapped around his waist. "But what about your wound?"

He was kissing the side of her neck, sending columns of pleasure directly down her body to the sweet spot between her legs. He broke away for a minute to answer. "Aint feelin' no pain right now."

He was looking into her eyes, his hand came up from where it was resting on her panties, and he brushed a ringlet of hair out of her face. She gazed into those intense, heavily lidded, blue eyes, and saw they carried a clear warning. "It's okay." She whispered breathlessly reassuring him, "I've wanted this for so long."

His eyes widened, and a groan escaped him. He scooped her into his arms, pulling her body against him, and she felt the hardness under his sweat pants brush against her thigh. Once again, a wave of euphoria washed over her, prickling her skin, knowing his erection was confirmation that he wanted her as much as she did him. He slid his hand along the expanse of her body, until his fingers found the bottom of her t-shirt, and traveled underneath it. He drew circles on her ribs, moving slowly upward, taking his time. She whined in frustration, wanting so badly to feel his hands exploring places they never had before.

And then, like magic – her wish came true - and he was cupping her breast in his hot hand, his palm pressing on her nipple, his chest resounding with a needy groan, sending a vibration of pleasure through her. His hand slid to the other breast, and she arched backward, her hips grinding into his, a frustrating ache building deep down.

He drew back, and their eyes met for a moment. Then he was helping her take her shirt off. A deep red blush spread across her face and chest as his gaze lingered on her breasts, before he hooked a thumb around her panties, and removing those too. Beth instinctively reached for the sheet, feeling a little shy. No one had seen her naked, and here was a grown man, looking at her body like he wanted to devour it. He raised an eyebrow, and slowly drew the sheet off of her. Beth giggled nervously, as he studied her from the small mound and nest of blond curls, up to her perky breasts, and tiny rose-colored nipples.

She sat up, and reached tentatively down with her hand, sliding her fingers beneath the waist-line of his sweats, her blond curls draping against his stomach. She explored further, moving her fingertips – still under his waist-band to the V of his abdominal muscles which pointed south. He tensed, took a deep breath, and relaxed, lying back. Her hand travel downward and she began to explore his hot erection. He moaned as she touched him, and she felt his mouth on her neck again, on her collarbone, on her upper chest, and then his lips found her breasts and he kissed and licked every inch of them, focusing for long, drawn out lengths of time on her nipples. Occasionally his kissing got rough, and he'd nibble into her with his teeth, and suck a little here and there. His love-bites, and the way his breath hitched as her hand gently stroked him, heightened her state of arousal to the point that her whole body was buzzing.

After a minute, he stopped kissing her and lay back; breathing real heavy. He reached down and gently tugged on her wrist. She understood that he wanted her to stop and, with a little pout, she did. He nudged her backward, until she was lying on her back again. Then he leaned over her, kissed her on the lips, and in one swift motion, his pants were off, and he was propping himself on top of her, his naked chest pressing into her own, and all their other parts touching as well.

She thought he was going to do it then, but instead, he planted a trail of scratchy kisses down her stomach, before ducking under the sheet. She didn't know what to expect, and she froze as she felt his lips, and his scruffy face, on her inner thigh. She felt herself blushing again as she realized what Daryl was fixing to do to her. She'd heard about men tasting women, down there, not from Maggie – there conversations never went quite that far into forbidden territory – but from friends at school, and Jimmy had awkwardly brought it up once. Still, she'd never been convinced that people actually did that sort of thing. And then his tongue was coming downward, toward the crease between her inner thigh and her aching womanhood, and all her thought processes halted abruptly, as she let go, giving in to the glorious sensation of Daryl's skilled mouth between her legs.

When he was done, she was trembling from head to toe. A small part of her aching had been relieved, but in some ways what Daryl did to her, had only intensified her need for more.

He seemed to sense that she wasn't ready to stop, but he did anyways, lying down beside her. She felt teased, and she got the feeling that was exactly how he wanted her to feel. Emboldened by her need to keep things going, she sat up again, all her muscles shaking, and slid one leg over the top of him, straddling his body between her legs. She felt her wetness brush against his hard heat. He groaned, staring up at her, as she put her hands on his chest – carefully avoiding his wound – and rubbed herself against him, moaning softly.

And then his hands were on her naked hips, his nails were digging into her flesh, and he was lifting her a little so he could slide inside her. She bit down on her tongue at the sensation of discomfort when he entered her, but it quickly faded, as the pleasure of him moving his hips gently upward, and holding her in place with his hot, rough hands, smothered the small twinges of pain.

They moved in unison, their bodies glistening with sweat in the candlelight. He reached up and pulled her down so that she was lying on top of him, wrapping his arms around her back, and thrusting upward. Beth noticed him wince, in pain, and she was about to adjust her weight, when he took control from her. In one swift motion he had her flipped onto her back, without ever pulling apart from her. He kissed her neck, her cheeks, her lips and the kiss deepened, their tongues touching and twirling around, as he gently rocked his hips forward, thrusting even deeper inside of her. He rose up on his arms, and their eyes met as he drew out slowly, then even slower – agonizingly slow – he slid back in, until he was so deep she felt like she might split in two, and just as she thought she might explode all over him, he slowly pulled out again. He stroked her like that over and over again, his eyes darting between her eyes, and her body, his muscles rigged and lathered in sweat. She moaned loudly, biting back a scream when, all of the sudden, her whole body was humming, and every muscle that had been aching since she'd first laid eyes on Daryl Dixon, finally, contracted, and released, and Beth Greene saw a thousand tiny fireworks go off in her mind's eye. After a minute he stopped moving, and settled down on top of her, nuzzling his face in her hair, planting soft kisses on the curve of her neck. "All right?" he asked, kissing her softly on the lips, and moving her curls out of her face so he could study her eyes.

She nodded, not quite capable of speech yet, kissing him back, feeling the scruffiness of his face on her swollen lips. "Mmmm," she murmured, her lips brushing his. She put her hands in his hair, and he gave her one more languid kiss before sliding onto the bed beside her. He relaxed, and she felt his arm wrap around her waist. She turned on her side, facing away from him, and rested her cheek on his arm. For a while afterward, he twitched, until his body grew still, and his breaths evened out. Beth closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep.

….

Beth woke up in a panic, thinking that it had all just been another dream, until she looked down and saw the arm wrapped around her naked waist. She took a deep breath, knowing if she looked over her shoulder she would see a beautiful man, with hard-muscles, facial hair, and tattoos, sleeping soundly next to her. She felt a flutter of excitement in her belly, and she stretched a little, her naked bottom pressing up against him. All of sudden she felt a stiffening against her cheeks. "Mornin.'" She heard a gruff, sleepy voice announce.

Her heart started racing a bit as she considered whether or not there was time for a repeat session. As if he was reading her mind, she felt him brush her curls aside, and start kissing the back of her neck. The arm that was wrapped around her midsection gripped onto her hip, pulling her bottom against him. Knowing the kind of pleasure he could give her now, Beth felt almost ashamed at how much she wanted him again.

There was a knock at the door. Beth grabbed the blanket, pulling it up over them. "Don't come in," Beth called out, her voice shaky. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Rosi's voice came from the other side of the door. "Thought you two should know that girl, Tara, has gone missing."

Daryl sat up in bed, "What the fuck did she just say?" Beth wasn't sure if he was referring to Rosita saying 'you two' or the part about Tara being gone.

Beth looked over at him, surprised by his abrupt reaction. "Think she said Tara's gone." She sat up herself, pulling the blanket over her chest, and searching futilely in the tangled mess of sheets and blankets for her t-shirt.

"Not good." Daryl stated, climbing out of bed. She blushed when he didn't do anything to cover his naked body. She stared at him, overwhelmed by his perfectness. He had a physique like a Greek statue, his muscles wiry and solid. Only Daryl wasn't a statue – he was flesh and blood, and he was finally hers.

She gave him a questioning look, not really understanding his urgency. He looked up and caught her staring. Shaking his head, he retrieved his sweat-pants and quickly slid them on, his eyes darting to the door, and then back at her, "Best get dressed 'fore I change my mind." He said, his eyes lingering on her neck, "May wanna wear somethin' t' cover up those."

She looked down at herself. Small purplish pink bruises dotted the skin on her chest and breasts. She guessed from the way he was looking at her neck, that she had them there too. She couldn't quite remember him sucking on her skin enough to produce bruises, but she felt excited that he had. He swallowed deep watching her fingers dance across the places where he'd left his mark on her. His eyes were looking all predatory again, and he grabbed the post of the bed, squeezing so hard his knuckles turned white.

Finally she found her shirt, and quickly put it on. Despite what had just happened she felt a growing apprehension about Tara being gone. "Do you think she wanted to die?" Beth asked, as he watched her get dressed. "She had that look."

"Dunno," he replied, tearing his eyes away from Beth. "Stupid girl knows exactly where we are. Could be running off t' tell her fuckin' boyfriend our plans. Got t' track her." He peeled his hands off the bedpost. "Get dressed, you're comin' with me." He leaned over, and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face so it was even with his. He brushed a soft kiss on her lips. He saw her dreamy eyed look, and inhaled deeply. "Come on, vamonos." He said, and then he was walking out of the room, shaking his head and muttering something about 'bad timing' under his breath.

Beth sprang out of bed, and went over to the water basin for a quick sponge bath, before dressing in comfortable, protective travel gear. She remembered to select a shirt that didn't reveal Daryl's marks, and strapped on her supple brown leather boots. Lastly, she strapped her sword onto her back, and turned to look in the full-length mirror. Her hair was getting long, and her face had narrowed out some. She plaited her hair into a braid, so it wouldn't tangle on anything.

As she headed for the common room, Beth found herself hoping and praying that Tara was okay, and feeling guilty for not trying to talk to the girl the night before.

….

**A/N:** For plot purposes, which I'm not ready to disclose just yet, Daryl and Beth had to get their groove on no later than chapter six. I hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. There's going to be a lot of action in the next chapter for those of you that are burnt out on the heavy BETHYL…but don't worry – for those fans like me that never get sick of BETHYL romance/smut – I promise not to leave you hanging either!

All of the bible quotes in the story are from King James Version, because it is the version this author is most familiar with.

Thanks for reading. Please take a minute to review. Knowing you're enjoying the story really inspires me to keep writing it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**Thanks again to** Rubiredslippers for beta reading this chapter for me! Once I get the okay from her, I try not to touch the chapter again because I know it's ready for ya'll!

….

**Chapter Seven **

They didn't have to go far to find Tara. She was huddled in an administrative office inside the building above the silo. "Prolly tried t' get back in. Didn't know the damn doors lock when you shut 'em." Daryl speculated, as they peered at the girl through the window slit in the office door.

"I'm going in," Glenn stated.

"Hold up," Daryl said, as Glenn's hand wrapped around the doorknob. "She might be bit."

They must have looked funny from the other side of the door, all of them trying to get a look at Tara through the tiny rectangle of glass. "Unless it's somewhere really inconspicuous – I'd say she's clean." Glenn answered, peering through the window.

"Her clothes aren't ripped anywhere that I can see." Beth noted.

"Shirts bloody." Daryl pointed out.

Glenn put his hand out, "Yeah but that could be from killing a walker. How many times did we come in from outside covered in blood?"

"Like every time," Beth said, "and I should know, I was stuck doin' yawls laundry."

"We won't know for sure unless we ask her." Glenn said. Daryl chewed on his lip for a minute, before giving a little nod.

Glenn turned the doorknob, and pushed open the door about a foot. "Tara," he said gently. Tara squeezed herself harder, and started rocking back and forth. Glenn took a step forward, but Rosita put a hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't you give us a little girl time?"

"Good idea," he muttered, looking slightly relieved. He held the door open, and Rosi ducked under his arm, and inside the office.

"Back in a few," Daryl told Beth, gesturing for Abe to join him. They suspected some walker's were trapped in the small warehouse at the rear of the building, judging from the bumps and snarls they heard coming from that direction.

Abe was in his military fatigues holding his shotgun in his right hand, aimed at the floor, army cap turned backwards. Daryl was dressed in faded blue denim jeans, and a button up black shirt. He wore his jacket, and he was holding the loaded crossbow over his shoulder. "Need some help?" Beth asked.

Abe gave a throaty laugh. "If we're in need of an assist, Lil' Samurai, you can be sure we'll yell."

Beth smiled at Abe, and then her eyes found Daryl's. For some reason she felt more bashful around him now, under that scrutinizing dark blue gaze, then she ever had before. Every time she looked at him, she thought about what they'd been doing a few hours earlier, and heat would rush to her cheeks. Beth's body was still sore, but it was a good kind of sore, because it was a testament to their beautiful night together, proof that it had really happened. The archer seemed to read her thoughts because he leaned in, and brushed an awkward kiss against her cheek before stalking off toward the warehouse door. Abe raised his eyebrows at her – behind Daryl's turned back – and then marched off after him.

Beth went back over to where Glenn was watching Rosi and Tara. "What do you think she was doing up here?" Glenn asked, as they watched Rosita slowly approach the jumble of dark clothes, and dirty brown hair in the corner of the dusty office.

As Beth studied Tara, the girl glanced up – her eyes fixed on Rosita. Her face was covered in dirt, and tear-smeared streaks, her eyes were puffy and the bags underneath them were darker than they were the day before. There were dried blood spatters on her dirty charcoal grey t-shirt. On the floor, underneath the Tara's propped up legs, laid her assault rifle. Beth noticed a plastic grocery sack on the floor next to Tara. She frowned. "I think, maybe, she's been on a run for something." Beth conjectured, nodding at the sack next to Tara.

Glenn crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in, squinting at the bag. "Ohhhh," he said, rocking back on his heels, and drawing out the word, like he'd just had some kind of revelation. "I've seen stuff like that before." He pointed at the plastic bag.

"What stuff?" Beth asked, staring harder, unable to make out the contents of the sack.

Glenn cleared his throat. "I think she might be worried she's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Beth parroted, and then it all made sense. She knew – from Maggie telling her – that Lori had once asked Glenn to buy her a pregnancy test, and morning-after pills. Beth shivered every time she thought of how awful it would have been if Lori had actually taken those pills. They would have never had baby Judith. She swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat just thinking about the sweet baby girl. She frowned. "Wait, d'ya mean from the rape?"

"Rapes" Glenn corrected her in a morose tone. "And yes. I'm pretty sure Tara likes girls, so…"

"Poor thing," Beth commented, when Glenn let his sentence fall off. "Are those morning-after pills, Glenn?"

He nodded, his Adam's apple dipping low in his throat.

There was a loud banging sound from the warehouse. Beth's eyes shot in that direction and her hand went instinctively up to the hilt of her katana.

Glenn noticed her habitual gesture, and raised his eyes. "I'll go." He pulled his revolver off his belt, and turned toward the warehouse.

"Glenn, I got this." Beth said, touching his arm, "Tara knows you better than any of us. She trusts you. You should stay here, in case she needs you."

He was looking a little doubtful at her proposal, his eyes dancing up to her hand on the sword. "You want my gun?" He asked her, holding it out to her.

Beth dropped her hand off the sword, and lifted the flap of the denim jacket she'd found in the closet in her bedroom, flashing her handgun. "Thanks though." She said, walking past him.

"Be careful." He replied, still sounding hesitate.

Beth knew it would take Glenn some time to get used to the idea of her becoming a fighter, just like it had Daryl, but she wasn't going to let her brother-in-law's tenuous doubt prevent her from ensuring Daryl was okay.

Hearing the frustrated howl of a walker coming from the warehouse, she darted the rest of the way down the corridor, drawing the katana as she went.

When she got to the door, she let her eyes adjust to the dark before cracking it open. She saw two beams of light shining down from the upper level, onto the warehouse floor. A pile of nine or ten biters were trying to claw their way up to the catwalk – where the lights were coming from. She quickly scanned the rest of the warehouse, seeing another two walkers shambling toward the pile-up. She glanced over at the catwalk stairs and saw the problem. The stairs were in bad disrepair, and had fallen in – probably from Abe and Daryl being the first to climb them in a very long time. The stairs coming down must have been the sound she and Glenn had heard. From the looks of the entire warehouse – it hadn't been used in many years.

Beth guessed Daryl and Abe were reluctant to use their firearms – for fear of drawing in a herd. Instead they were picking the zombies off with bolts and other blunt objects they must have found on the upper floor. But Daryl only had four bolts left – he'd lost the rest when they lost the prison - and Beth saw at least three of the four sticking out of the heads of the double-dead, meaning he only had one bolt left.

Beth crept across the floor – quiet as a ninja – until she was in the position to reach the first stray walker. The blade sung as she sliced off the walker's head from behind. The thud of its body hitting the floor aroused the attention of the other walker a few feet away. Beth stabbed her sword through the biting head of the first walker, pulled it back out, and pointed it at the other one. "Come on you stinky bastard," she said, "Let's get this over with."

The walker growled and snapped its jaws as it approached Beth, reaching for her. She noticed the top half of its skull was cracked open, revealing its rotting brain underneath. An image of a cracked egg, yoke spilling out, flashed through her mind. "Yeck," she said, kicking the monster in the stomach, then with both hands on the hilt of the katana she pressed forward putting her weight on her front foot, and slid the blade through the ugly walker's skull before it could reach her with its hands. The walker fell to its knees, and she nudged its chest with her tiny foot, pushing it backward so that its body slid off her katana with a squishing sound, freeing up her blade again.

Beth advanced on the remaining five walkers in the pile below the catwalk. Daryl must have seen her then because he shouted something she couldn't understand, and she heard his boots on the catwalk not far away from her. Flashlight beams danced, like disco lights, around the ceiling of the warehouse.

Beth smiled, and whistled loudly at the piling walkers. There was the usual delayed reaction as it slowly dawned on their ineffectual brains that there was a much easier target standing behind them, and then they were turning, and shuffling toward her.

She pushed thoughts of Daryl, and everything else, out of her mind and formed a quick plan. The first thing she noticed was that the largest of the walkers was in the back – the guy must have been a basketball player, or something, before he turned. Beth quickly sized up the two walkers that were going to reach her first. Both were female before the turn, and from the looks of it, they'd both been dead a long time – reducing them to walking piles of leathery skin and brittle bones. _Easy kills, _she thought.

Switching her sword to her left hand, she pulled her knife out of the sheath on her belt, got a good grip on the handle, and flung the weapon with all her might, careful to aim for the middle of the tall walker's face, what Daryl referred to as "the sweet spot," during knife training.

Beth felt a fleeting jolt of pride as the big fella, in the back, hit the ground with a thud. She didn't have much time to revel in her pride, as the two leading walkers were almost on her. She looked to her right, taking in the mountain of wooden storage crates stacked underneath the catwalk. She ran over to it the first crate, climbed up on it, and then got up on next crate up, just for good measure.

She turned back to face the enemy. The first female walker veered toward her, followed by the second, and she noticed that the remaining two walkers were far enough behind to give her the time she needed to deal with the ones at her feet. Beth dangled the end of her boot off the edge of the box, using it as walker bait. The strongest female hissed, clapped her jaws, and collided with the crate below the one Beth was standing on.

Beth positioned herself for the two female walkers who were managing – quiet well – to get themselves up onto the first box, and closer to the deadly range of Beth's sword.

She saw flashlight beams come down directly above her, and risked a glance up. "What the fuck are you doing?" Daryl hissed. She raised her arm, blocking her eyes from the blinding light.

"Just point the light on them," she said, turning back to see the two biters were getting almost too close. A memory of her fourteenth birthday at the miniature golf course sparked through her mind, as she pulled her foot back, and held the sword with both hands in front of her body – blade pointed down at a forty-five degree angle. As the slobbering females came into range, Beth raised her arms up and to the right, and swung the sword down like a golf-club. She resisted the urge to yell, "FOUR," as two heads bounced onto the floor, followed shortly after by their bodies. She would need to destroy the brains after she dealt with the last two walkers, but decapitated walker heads weren't very dangerous as long as you watched where you were stepping.

A bolt soared elegantly through the air, impaling the right eye socket of the second to last walker.

Beth looked around her, and saw a small broken crate within arm's reach. She grabbed the crate and hurled it at the remaining walker. She backed up a couple feet, got a running start, and dove off the box she was standing on. For a moment everything went into slow motion as she felt her weight leave the sturdy crate, and gravity took over. She arched her arms over her head, and brought the full force of her sword down into the center of the last walker's forehead, splitting him in half down to the collarbone. His body broke her fall, and she landed in a crouch, before straightening to look around her, checking for any stragglers. Seeing no movement, and hearing no more walker sounds, she relaxed, and stood up.

A rope dropped down from the catwalk, and she turned to see Daryl shimmying down it, holding his knife between his teeth. She had the feeling he wasn't going to be happy with her, putting her life at risk, not thinking things through better before attacking.

Beth lobbed the brain matter, and bits of rotten flesh, off her blade with a snap of her wrist, and then checked it - still not satisfied – and flung it a second time before storing it back in the scabbard on her back.

Daryl's boots hit the top crate, and he jumped down onto the next two before landing on the floor in a congealed puddle of walker blood. He pulled the knife out of his mouth, and looked down at his boots, grimacing. Beth saw another set of boots lowering over the edge of the catwalk. "Feel better?" Daryl asked, stepping disgustedly over one of the female's heads chomping at his ankle.

He leaned down, and pushed his knife through the walker's skull, then did the same with the other moving head.

"Did I do something wrong?" Beth asked, surprised that he didn't seem more upset.

Daryl's eyes danced over the walkers Beth had killed. He shrugged. "Probably woulda been best to go back for help, but ya got the job done."

She exhaled the air she'd been holding in, and beamed happily at him.

"Got the job done?" a voice echoed, and they both glanced up to see Abe gracelessly climbing down off the crates. "Think that was the most entertainment I've had in a long time. Never seen anyone take out walkers quite that gracefully before."

"You don't know Michonne," Beth said, feeling herself blushing under Daryl's scrutinizing eyes.

She felt the archer move next to her, felt the heat coming off his skin. "Couple more months uh practice, and Michonne aint gonna have shit on my girl." He said low enough so only she could hear.

The rarest of rare was a compliment from Daryl, and on top of that he'd called her his "girl." Beth felt like swooning, but she didn't want to ruin Abe's new impression of her.

"Best get these bodies outside, and burned." Daryl said to no one in particular, before turning back to her, "How's the therapy session goin'?"

Beth told them about Tara's bag of pregnancy stuff.

"Wish the dumbass would uh spoke up. Got all that shit on the medical level." Daryl said, shaking his head.

Daryl ducked down, pulling his bolt out of the walker he'd shot from the catwalk. Abe grabbed one of the walker heads, by the long hair, and punted it toward the warehouse door.

Beth stood for a minute watching Daryl move around the room collecting his bolts, and Abe dragging the twice-dead into a pile by the door.

….

Two weeks. Two blissful weeks. Two weeks of Daryl loving her every night. Two weeks of his arm wrapped around her waist as they slept. Two weeks for Daryl to get comfortable with public affection. Two weeks about to come to an end.

"So that's everything, right?" Abe asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Beth was perched in Daryl's lap in one of the overstuffed chairs. Rosita sat on the couch beside Abe, her socked feet resting an inch from his thigh. Beth had eventually found time for the conversation with Rosi, telling her about the night that Abe carried her to bed with such tenderness, and speculated that Rosita might be making some awful big assumptions as to how Abe felt about her. At first Rosita had stubbornly argued with Beth, but the next day, Beth noticed the girl seemed to be getting bolder about her interest in the big red-head.

Glenn sat in his favorite chair. He'd taken to writing in a blank leather journal he'd found in one of the bedrooms. Beth hadn't wanted to invade his privacy by asking what he was scribbling away about, but she liked to imagine that Glenn was writing passionate love letters to Maggie.

Gene and Tara were in the kitchen washing up the dinner dishes. Daryl had been hunting several times, and brought in two deer. They had preserved a good deal of meat and now they had plenty of venison jerky on top of their – what seemed like –infinite food storage.

Tara had surprised them all by striking up a friendship with Eugene. Beth guessed there was something soothing in Eugene's non-gender specific personality. Beth often felt like she was trying to communicate with a computer, instead of a man, when she was talking to him.

Once Tara was sure she wasn't pregnant, she seemed to come around a bit. Beth had even had a couple of conversations with her and learned that Tara had actually lost her older sister, and her girlfriend, during the prison attack. Beth saw her own hatred reflected in the girl's eyes when they discussed the man Tara called "Brian." Beth realized that Tara had as much – if not more – call to abhor the Governor than she did.

"He asked ya if that was everything, Daryl." She said.

Her voice made the archer flinch a bit, like it hurt. She frowned, and adjusted a little, worried she was pressing on his healing gunshot wound. "Do ya'll need to go back over it again?" Daryl asked.

Glenn looked appalled at the prospect of reviewing the plan again. "I think four times is adequate."

"Agreed," Abe said, and Beth caught him glancing at Rosi out of the corner of his eyes. "Tired, girl?" Abe asked Rosita, swatting her leg.

Rosita peered over the top of the magazine she was reading, and gave Abe a sardonic look. "I don't get tired, Abraham. You know that."

"Look a little played, that's all, I didn't mean…"

Rosi interrupted him. "Just bored out of my mind, as usual."

Abe abruptly stood up, bent over, scooped Rosi into his big arms – ignoring her protests and insults - and carried her back to the bedrooms.

"What the shit was that about?" Daryl asked, as Beth got up, and pulled him to his feet. Their eyes met, and he saw her grinning.

"Oh," he said, before shaking his head, "Gettin' to be like fuckin' Debbie Does Dallas around here. Next thing we know genius-boy and the lesbo are gonna hook up." Beth cringed at the mental image his crude joke prompted in her mind.

"You don't really have much room to talk, Ron Jeremy." Glenn said, looking up from his furious scribbling.

"Who?" Daryl asked, picking Beth's katana up off the coffee table, and handing it over to her before he collected his bow.

Beth giggled. "He's a porn star," she offered, and immediately realized she'd put her foot in her mouth.

They both looked at her. "I even want to know how the fuck you know that?" Daryl asked, and she felt herself blushing.

"Night Glenn" she said, ignoring Daryl's question. "Try to get some sleep instead of staying up all night writing whatever you're writing in that book."

He looked up and gave her a weak smile. "You two might want to try sleeping for a change too."

"Watch it, bro. I like you, but not that fuckin' much." Daryl growled.

Daryl led Beth out of the room. She heard Glenn chuckling softly behind them. It was nice to hear him laughing. Lately, he had seemed really depressed, withdrawing into his own little world. Beth knew her brother-in-law was missing Maggie, and that he was tired of waiting for them to get all the supplies together for the attack on Terminus. Tomorrow would be their first real chance of finding the others, and she prayed, for Glenn's sake – and her own – that if Maggie was with the cannibal cult, she hadn't yet been harmed.

Beth shivered, thinking of her sister in the hands of those evil people.

"Cold?" He asked her.

"A little," she lied, not wanting to dwell on, or talk about, her concerns for Maggie's well-being. That wasn't going to help her sister, and it wasn't how she wanted to spend her last night at home.

They were halfway through the last chapter of _Dracula_, and they'd planned to finish it before bed. Plus, Beth expected they'd spend a good chunk of the night doing what they had _every_ night since the first, perfecting the art they'd discovered together two weeks ago. Beth knew now that Daryl was as insatiable for her as she was for him. They couldn't get enough of each other.

Daryl grabbed his leather jacket off the foot of their bed, and took her hand, pulling her over to the couch. They settled in, he covered her legs with the jacket, lit the candles, and handed her the book. She took it from him, taking note of the new wrinkles they'd put in the cover.

Beth read out-loud to the last page of _Dracula_, feeling disappointed when Quincy was knifed in the side, but happy that he still managed to stab the count in the heart, giving Jonathan the opportunity to slash the vampire's throat. When she finished the last sentence she shut the book and held it, lovingly, in her lap.

Daryl shifted for the first time in a while and glanced over at her. "Didn't think ole' Jonny boy had it in 'im." He commented.

Beth's stomach growled loudly, and she moved her hand from where the book lay on her chest down to her belly, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Hungry?" Daryl asked.

"Not really. Food don't sound too appetizing.' Feelin' kind queasy actually."

"Prolly just nervous jitters about tom..." He stopped midsentence.

Beth looked up at him. Daryl was staring forward, his jaw clenched, muscles rigid, his eyes all wild looking."

"Um, Daryl?"

He still didn't answer or move for that matter.

"Earth to Daryl…" she called, leaning forward and waving her hand in front of his eyes. What in the world had gotten into him?

He looked at her then, and she saw something in his eyes that made chills crawl uncomfortably up her spine. "What is it?" She asked, sitting up the rest of the way, clutching the book to her breast, all but forgetting her upset stomach.

A tremor went through him, and then he was blasting off the couch, and tramping out of the room without so much as a word to her, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Beth cocked her head to one side, and frowned. She'd never seen the archer act so odd without some obvious catalyst. She looked down at the book in her hands, and tried to think of what had set Daryl off. Her mind was all fuzzy, though, and despite her anxiety over Daryl, she felt like she could fall asleep. It had been a long day, and for some reason her training seemed harder lately, like she was cutting through mud instead of air.

She was about to get up and track Daryl down, find out what was bothering him, when she heard the familiar sound of his boots in the hallway. He came through the door, and shut it quietly behind him. She looked at his face. The fear she'd thought she'd seen before was still in his eyes. Then she noticed the box in his hand. "What's that?"

He came to stand by the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, hiding the object in his hands. "You aint bled since that first night." He told her, his voice carrying a hint of danger.

"Um…what?" She said, caught off guard by his statement.

He sighed, "Upset stomach, aint bleeding…swollen breasts" he pulled the hidden object out, and tossed it on the couch at her feet. Beth couldn't resist glancing down at her chest. Swollen breasts? That he'd noticed that, and she hadn't, both flattered and concerned her. She sat forward, and sucked in her breath as she saw a baby face smiling up at her. Daryl brought her a pregnancy test? All of the sudden his bizarre behavior made perfect sense.

He turned his back to her, and went over to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. "My own damn fault," he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Got so caught up... Dumber than a box of rocks for not takin' any goddam precautions, 'specially in this fucked up world."

Beth felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, as she leaned forward to pluck the test off the couch. She did a mental count of the number of days since her last period. She wasn't quite sure, but her breath caught in her throat as she realized she hadn't had it since the prison. Beth felt her eyes watering up, and a big lump formed in her throat. She stared down at her belly, remembering the promise she'd made to herself to stop hoping she'd ever feel a life move inside her. She took a deep, shaky breath, and didn't even try to stop the tears.

Cupping a hand over her mouth, Beth inhaled through her nose. Daryl, hearing her, turned to look at her, alarm registering on his face. "Beth," he said, taking a stride toward her.

Daryl tossed the sweatpants on the bed, and crossed the room to her, dropping down on his knees beside her. He didn't prompt her to talk anymore. He just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body up against him, tucking her head under his chin, and silently stroked her hair.

Beth let him hold her, and tried to reason through the emotional outburst. She wasn't sure if she was crying because she was terrified or overjoyed at the prospect of bringing life into a world so full of death. On the one hand, it seemed completely ridiculous to even entertain the possibility of raising children in the zombie apocalypse and – on the other hand – they'd stayed relatively safe underground – and after two solid weeks without having to hear and see the dead walking around - with the exception of supply runs - it was easier to imagine a safer future than it had ever been before.

As her tears dried up he released her, but stayed perched on the couch close by. He cupped her face tenderly, and raised her chin up so she was forced to make eye contact. "Ya' all right?"

She nodded, sniffling a little still. He let her go and leaned back, putting his hand on her thigh and chewing his bottom lip. Patting her eyes with her sleeve, Beth looked down at the box they'd crumpled between them. "Should I do it now?" She asked, hearing the nervousness in her voice.

He looked at the package, and gave a stiff nod. "Best get it over with, so we know what we're looking at. If ya are, it changes everything."

Beth wasn't sure what he meant, but she was too tired to try and decipher his enigmatic comment. She stood, feeling the muscles in her calves and arms aching from her _laijutsu _routine_. _She felt Daryl's eyes on her as she traipsed into the Hollywood style rest-room that joined his old room with the room they were now sharing.

She shut the door, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had grown past her shoulders, and was in bad need of a trim. Yesterday, she'd woven several thick braids into it, like she always used to back at the prison. Her powder blue eyes were slightly glazed over, red and swollen from crying. She could see the thickness in her upper arms that hadn't been there a month ago. Her body was stronger than it had ever been. The muscles in her arms, and shoulders were more defined, reminding her of her friend Katie's swimmers physique. Beth almost laughed when she recalled how much she used to envy Katie's perfect body.

Glancing down at the box in her hand, she recalled her task. Beth peed on the stupid stick, and waited – sitting on the vanity stool - for the results. She read the instructions while she was waited, humming softly to herself. _Pretty simple_, Beth thought. A negative sign meant she wasn't pregnant, and the plus sign meant she was.

Beth chewed on her nail as she watched the little result window for signs of change. Slowly, a faint pink symbol appeared in the window. She inhaled through her teeth, and her heart started pounding. One terrifying question dominated her mind. How was she supposed to tell Daryl Dixon that he was going to be a daddy?

….

"She aint fuckin' goin' an' that's fuckin' final." Daryl said, kicking a box of gear over.

Glenn wasn't going to give up. "She has to go, Daryl, she's essential to the plan."

"I'm going," Beth told Glenn, before turning to face Daryl, arms crossed over her chest. "You can't stop me from my business with the Governor, or from helping take down Terminus." They'd been over it a thousand times, and everyone else was on Beth's side about her still going, despite the pregnancy.

"Beth, I need ya to stay here." He said, putting his hand on her arm, and staring at her with those intense blue eyes. The rest of the room blurred away and all she saw was him.

"You know I can't."

"We'll figure something out. Plans change."

She shook her head defiantly. "I have to do this."

"Goddammit no you don't. This is safety," he stabbed his finger at the floor, "out there," he pointed up at the ceiling, "aint no kind of fuckin' place for a woman in your condition. Come on, have all you motherfuckers lost your goddam marbles? You remember what happened to fuckin' Lori?"

Beth closed her eyes, going back in her mind to the exhausting conversation they'd had late into the night.

At first Beth worried that Daryl would ask her to take the morning-after pills (not that either of them knew for sure that the pills would be effective), but he hadn't even mentioned them, and when Beth had worked up the nerve to bring the pills up herself, Daryl had surprised her by saying he didn't like that option. In fact, after he got over his initial shock, she thought he seemed strangely calm with the idea of being a father.

Beth had fallen asleep with her head in his lap on the couch, him stroking her hair, and she'd woken up - fully clothed - lying in bed beside him. Then he'd told her that he didn't want her to go on the mission with the rest of them, and they'd been arguing ever since.

Beth had demanded they tell the rest of the group, knowing the others wouldn't be so quick to change their carefully prepared plans. She sighed, hearing his words repeated in her mind._ I need ya to stay here. _Beth wished she'd been more open with Daryl about the daily fits of rage that left her shaking and drenched in sweat. She usually saved her furious outbursts for her private _laijutsu_ sessions, where even Daryl left her alone. She wished she could explain to him that she wasn't even sure she could carry the baby to term with the incredible amount of stress the fits manifested in her.

She took both of Daryl's hands in her own, noticing for the hundredth time how big they were compared to her own. "Remember when we said we'd keep each other safe?" She asked him softly, aware the others were watching them closely. He sighed and gave a stiff nod. "Now I'm standing here telling ya if I don't do this, and this baby comes, it's gonna have a crazy woman for a mama. This isn't about me feeling left out Daryl. Remember the day the prison fell, and I told you what I needed."

He nodded, chewing on his lip, and staring down at her. "I remember."

She looked him straight in the eyes. "I _need_ to kill the Governor, and I _need_ to find my sister. Please try and understand how important this is to me."

She knew she was asking him to put her needs before the safety of his unborn child, but that was something she was willing to ask of him, if it meant finally having peace, and bringing the Governor's reign of terror to an end.

Daryl inhaled deeply and she thought she could hear everyone in the room holding their breath – like her – anticipating the archer's response. "You're sure, Beth. Sure it'll be enough?" He asked – his tone softening substantially. He disentangled a hand from hers, and cupped her face.

She thought about his question. She couldn't be sure that killing the Governor would cool the rage and stop the fits, but she also didn't think anything else – even motherhood – was going to help. If there was a cure, revenge against the Governor was it. "I'm positive." She said, with a firm nod.

He studied her like she was a cell under a microscope, before releasing her face, and stepping back, looking like she'd just wounded him. He shot cold looks at everyone else around the room, before grabbing his crossbow off the table. "Let's get this shit over with."

"Look, Daryl," Glenn cleared his throat. "I know how you feel. It's a risk, but I don't see any other way."

Daryl spun, came chest to chest with Glenn fast as a blur, and poked the other man in the chest with his index finger. "'Till I ask you to put your own godamm wife – and child – in danger you aint got a godamm clue how I fuckin' feel. Got that?"

Glenn held up his hands palm out, and nodded. Abe stepped up, "Woah, cool down there, brother…"

"Aint your godamm brother," Daryl yelled, "Aint gonna pretend like I like this fucked up situation neither. So fuck you," he said to Abe, "and fuck you too" he pointed to Glenn.

He stepped back, put his crossbow on, and grabbed a box of supplies, tucking in under his arm, before stomping out of the room.

"That went well." Rosita said, rolling her eyes.

"He'll get it together." Glenn said, looking a little abashed. It had been awhile since the two men had been at each other's throats all the time over the Merle/Woodbury situation. Heck, it had been quite a while since Daryl's last outburst.

Beth was still caught up on what Daryl had said – in his own sort of way – referring to her as his "wife" when he was comparing his own situation to Glenn's. Her heart fluttered knowing Daryl thought of her that way. She put her hand on her belly, reveling in how much her life had changed since they left the prison.

….

**A/N:** I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! As always, this starving artist would deeply appreciate a review from anyone who has time to leave one. Thanks guys! Chapter eight is going to be a wild ride, so stay tuned. I hope to update again this weekend.

Oh yes one more thing. **IF YOU LOVE NORMAN REEDUS** then you would love Boondock Saints and if you love Boondock Saints check out the other little fan fic I have up called _**Saint Grace**_**.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

…_._

_Eyes, dark and mysterious as Night's; but, like Night's own eyes, ready, I thought, to call up the throbbing fires of a million stars._  
—Theodore Watts-Dunton

….

Chapter Eight

"Place is empty," Daryl said, his bow resting on his shoulder pointed at heaven. Noises from the trees behind them cut the conversation short. "Come on."

They made their way back down the hill, stopping only to put down any walkers that got too close. "Found tires tracks headin' north." Daryl stated as they walked. "Five cars. Douchebag's got himself another fuckin' militia. Why these dumb motherfuckers keep falling for his shit is beyond me."

"No tanks this time?" Glenn asked, sounding nervous.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah, nothin' like that, but at least one large truck in the convoy– 'bout the size of ours."

"North? He's relocating, allying with the fucking cult," Abe said. They knew the Governor had had at least one meeting with Garreth – the leader of Terminus. It was reasonable to think that he would want to be in a more protected camp. Even with the walker moat, the cabin was vulnerable without any fences or walls and sitting at the bottom of a wooded valley.

Daryl trained his bow on a walker that was getting too close. He took it out, and they stopped so he could retrieve his bolt before continuing down the hill.

The Governor was an extremely manipulative man, skilled at deceiving and using people. Beth knew the Governor's sole motivation for terrorizing the prison, and killing her father, along with so many others, was finding Michonne, so he could torture and kill her. The Governor wanted revenge for the loss of his daughter, and his eye. Beth didn't think the Governor would care that Terminus was a community full of cannibals, as long as they served their purpose – and helped him capture Michonne. If he had an arrangement with the people of Terminus – and anyone even remotely associated with Michonne was being held in the community – the Governor would probably torture them, or worse, to extract information about Michonne.

"You're pretty quiet, Beth. Are you doing okay?" Glenn said, drawing her out of analyzing what her nemesis' next move would be.

Beth shot him a weak smile, and crossed her arms over her chest, looking forward at the pair of angel wings several yards ahead. "Just have a lot on my mind, I guess."

He nodded his understanding. "Hey, we started arguing right after you told us. I never really got the chance to congratulate you two…on the baby."

"I don't think you congratulate people for things like that anymore." She said, patting her belly.

He nodded. "You know, honestly, when you first told us, I thought it was kind of irresponsible of you guys to let something like that happen, but since I've had some time to consider it, I think I was wrong to feel that way."

Beth swallowed. She remembered her own words to Lori; _you're pregnant? How could you do that? _– Like Lori had committed a crime or something. Glenn wasn't wrong. It _was _irresponsible. In truth, Beth had never even contemplated the possibility of getting pregnant with everything going on, and now she felt pretty stupid for being so naive. She could blame the hectic schedule what with prepping, training, her inner conflict over the Governor, her concern for Maggie, planning, her special time with Daryl, and thinking about Daryl all the time, but in reality it was just never even something she considered happening. Not until the moment Daryl gave her the test. "Why?" Beth asked, looking over at Glenn.

"Because if we think like that we let _them_ win."

She frowned, "Who?"

Glenn lifted a finger pointing at a shuffling, groaning walker wearing a shredded Hawaiian shirt with faded teal blue flowers on it. "Them."

They watched as Rosita walked confidently toward the walker, her hair in pig tails, sporting her favorite large gold hoop earrings, her army hat turned backward. She pulled her knife as she moved and, using the butt of her gun to keep the grasping monster out of reach, she impaled the walker through the head, giving the knife a twist before pushing the body off her knife with the gun.

"I think I get what you're saying, but I'm not sure." Beth said, noticing Daryl glancing back at her and Glenn, as Rosita rejoined the group.

He smiled. "I've been thinking a lot, Beth. When this is all over, when we find Maggie, I think the group should all leave Georgia."

Beth almost stopped in her tracks. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "As a heart attack."

"Why?" Beth and Daryl had decided there was no need to tell Glenn, yet, that they had agreed to escort Eugene to D.C. with Abe and Rosi. They had until spring to find the others and help them get settled – presumably in the silo – before they headed for D.C. Neither of them saw the sense in worrying Glenn with everything he already had on his plate. Beth wondered if Daryl was thinking about leaving her behind with the others at the silo as well, now that he was in full blown Daddy Dixon mode.

"Because there has to be somewhere we can really be safe. Start over. Something that isn't surrounded by walkers, or underground. I was thinking an island would work nicely since they can't swim. I want to go south, through the rest of Georgia, and then through Florida, and see what the coast looks like." He acknowledged her bemused expression and continued, "We can't stop being what we are, Beth, we can't just stop being human. I mean, think about it human beings are becoming an endangered species. We're going to go extinct if we don't reproduce, yet everyone acts like pregnancy is equivalent to death these days. I almost lost my mind when Maggie had that pregnancy scare."

"There's a lot more risk involved having a baby nowadays," Beth replied, thinking of Lori. "If I miscarried – the baby could…you know…come back…reanimate inside me, not to mention we're basically back in the dark ages as far as healthcare goes. Without a doctor, and with all the risks…well…," Beth said, stopping herself, "It is what it is. There's no sense in fearing the unknown – least that's what my daddy used to say."

Glenn put his arm around her shoulder, "I am looking forward to being an uncle."

Beth leaned into his shoulder, and smiled. "You're going to be an awesome uncle. When we get the group back you should talk to the council about relocating the group." She decided not to add that she and Daryl had a prior commitment and probably wouldn't be joining them. They could hash all of that out later.

Glenn nodded. "I'm planning on it."

Daryl held up a finger and they all pulled to a stop, he curled his index finger forward and waved toward something big and metallic in the clearing ahead.

….

It was small, but they would be reasonably safe camping in and around it. Daryl had spotted the silver Winnebago RV, on the way to the truck. After surveying the area they came to the conclusion that the spot was relatively safe. The clearing was ideal because they would be able to spot walkers well before they made it to the camp. Abe and Rosita went for the truck and parked it so that the two vehicles formed an L shape, preventing walkers from moseying in behind their backs.

There was already a fire-pit, so Glenn and Abe took off to gather firewood while Beth and Rosita started putting up the clothesline perimeter and hanging noisemakers from it. Daryl went off on his own to hunt. Tara was inside the RV – which was a pigsty – trying to make it habitable for a night's sleep.

The Georgian evenings were getting colder with fall coming on, and they hoped to cook some fresh meat for dinner, so having a fire would kill two birds with one stone. "So," Rosita said, hanging a couple of coke cans on the perimeter line, "Are you freaking out yet?"

"About what?" Asked Beth, looking up from the cowbell she was tying on the line.

Rosita laughed. "I guess you aren't."

"Oh," Beth said, laughing when she realized her friend was referring to the pregnancy. "You know, it's weird but I think it would be totally different if this had happened_ before_ the turn. I'd probably be obsessin' over it, terrified about tellin' my daddy, and feelin' like I'd ruined my chance of going to college. But now…I barely think about it. Guess I'm too busy dwellin' on more important things, like staying alive."

Rosita nodded. "_My older sister, Camila, got knocked up when she was seventeen. She wasn't married and, of course, my parents were pretty pissed_. She spent nine months fighting with them, running away with her crappy boyfriend, begging to come back, and then running away again. Then she came back and stayed, and made us all miserable. I hated her for putting my parent's through that, and for making everything about her. I hated her until the moment I saw my little nephew, Tomás, with a head full of curly black hair, and I fell in love with the little guy…" her voice trailed off. Beth had heard enough people talking about the loved ones they'd lost to recognize the sound of loss in Rosi's voice, and her heart went out to the girl.

"Do you know for sure…?" Beth asked, weaving a wind chime into the clothesline. Many people – who had friends and relatives living in other parts of the country – would never know if their loved ones had survived. Beth had aunts in Kansas City, Missouri, and her friend Katie had moved to Fort Collins, Colorado back in ninth year. She didn't think about them very much, but when she did it was never with any hope that they were alive.

Rosita gave a tight nod, kneeling down and grabbing a glass bottle to string on. "Yeah, I found them, and took care of them myself. Abe was there, but I wouldn't let him help – even though I knew it wasn't them anymore – I couldn't watch him do it, and I'm glad I didn't. I could never love a man that did something like that to my family, even knowing they were walkers. But if it wasn't for Abe, agreeing to take a detour to visit my neighborhood, I would have never known for sure what happened to them."

Beth had never heard Rosi sound so sad, and this was the first time the girl had talked about what happened to her family after the infection. Beth thought about all the family of hers that Daryl Dixon, himself, had put down. Arnold, Shawn, and it was his shotgun that hit her mama, Annette, in the cheek – but it was Andrea who'd killed mama in the end. Beth found it strange how in the old world the worst thing you could to do a person was to harm their family, but in the new world, it was a merciful favor. Beth was grateful to Daryl for doing what she couldn't at the time, but Rosita had always been strong, and Beth wasn't surprised she'd chosen to put her family down herself.

"I'm so sorry Rose," she said, not sure what made her want to shorten Rosita's name like that. It had just come out that way.

Something thudded into Beth's side, and she almost reached for her sword, until she realized it was Rosi. Beth immediately turned and hugged her friend back. She felt Rosita trembling and, though she didn't make a sound, Beth knew she was crying. "There, there," said Beth. "It's okay to miss them, aint nothing wrong with that." She rubbed Rosi's back in clockwise circles as she spoke. It had been a while since Beth had had physical contact with another girl – and it made her miss Maggie, made her crave those big bear hugs the sisters always gave each other after they'd been separated for a run. She felt her own eyes misting up.

Rosita sniffled and let go of Beth, rolling her eyes at herself.

"D' ya want to talk about it?" Beth asked.

Rosi shook her head, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "My mother used to call me Rose." She shrugged, and took a deep breath. "You're a good friend, Beth." She turned, and stalked away to tie up the line.

….

Abe and Glenn returned with their arms full of wood, and started to build the fire. Beth went inside to check on Tara. She opened the door to the dinky camper, and the smell of chemicals hit her in the face, causing her eyes to instantly water. Tara was leaning over the kitchen counter opening a window. "I know… I got carried away with the Lysol. Sorry."

"S' ok," Beth tried not to gag. "Here let's open these too," she advised, going into the tiny living room with the scarlet velvet couch, and opening all three windows. There was a metallic silver art deco table which the couch wrapped around, shag red velvet carpet, and big, gaudy ashtrays laying on every surface.

"Look what I found," Tara said, and Beth turned back toward her. The brunette was holding a dusty bottle of red wine.

Beth had only had wine for communion, at church, in a cup the size of a thimble. "Do you like wine?" She asked Tara.

The girl was wiping the dust off the bottle onto her green army jacket. "I've never tried the red kind, but I had a glass of white wine at a wedding reception once." She shrugged, "It wasn't bad actually."

"Is there an opener?" Beth asked. The kitchen was so small that the two girl's backs were pressed together as they searched the drawers.

"Bingo!" Tara said. Beth sidestepped, and turned, to see Tara holding a corkscrew, her chocolate bangs cutting over ornery brown eyes. "Should we?"

Beth shrugged. Lori was known to drink a glass of wine – when they came across any - while she was pregnant. Beth even remembered a conversation they'd had when her father was present, and he'd commented that some doctor's actually recommended red wine – in moderation – during pregnancy to help to flush toxins out of the mother's system. Lori said she'd read a study where children whose mothers drank one glass of red wine per day developed better social skills than those that didn't. "Totally," Beth whispered conspiratorially, "but let's save it for after dinner."

They hid the bottle away in a cabinet.

….

The squirrel was crisp on the outside, juicy on the inside. Beth gorged herself on it, as Daryl had brought down six of the critters, and she was getting one all to herself. They also had green beans, and some of the cornbread Gene made for their trip.

They were only interrupted twice, during the meal, by walkers and Abe had taken care of both quietly so as not to disturb everyone else's dinner.

Beth put her paper plate in the plastic sack they were using for trash, and rubbed her belly. Apparently the food was going to agree with her tonight. "Get enough?" Daryl asked.

He was propped beside her, their shoulders touching, their backs to a dead log, their packs already laid out beneath them as they'd volunteered to sleep outside so the others could use the camper. Beth was looking forward to sleeping under the stars for a change. She nodded. "Uh huh, I'm stuffed. Couldn't eat another bite if I wanted to."

He grunted in response. Daryl had been withdrawn and moody with her since morning, but he'd been downright cold to everyone else, especially poor Glenn.

Beth looked up and caught Tara looking pointedly at her. Beth nodded, and watched Tara excuse herself. Daryl saw the exchange and frowned at Beth who simply shrugged. Moments later the brunette reemerged from the camper with the wine, cork-screw, and a stack of dixie cups they'd found under the sink. "To celebrate the baby" Tara said, holding the bottle in the firelight for everyone to see.

Daryl adjusted uncomfortably, Beth noticed, but everyone else seemed delighted at the prospect of a little impromptu celebration. "Does anyone know how to open it?" She held out the wine, and corkscrew looking hopefully at the group.

Abraham shook his head. "Never had much of a taste for wine. I'm more of a Captain Morgan and coke guy."

"Rosita?" Tara said, holding the bottle out to the other girl.

Rosita shook her head. "I don't drink." Rosi said, looking uninterested, and toying with the metal skewer.

"Glenn can you…"

"Nooope," Glenn said, "I only…"

Daryl interrupted him. "Let me guess, you only drink sawkey," he gestured at Tara, "Give me the damn bottle."

"That's not what I was going to say," Glenn stated, "and for the hundredth time, I'm Korean, Daryl. Sake is a Japanese drink."

"Whatever." Daryl said, taking the bottle from Tara, and pulling out his pocket knife to cut the metallic label off.

Beth was a little surprised Daryl knew how to open the wine. Tara passed the dixie cups around, and Beth almost giggled when she realized her first real drink was going to be served in a _Spongebog Squarepants_ dixie cup.

She watched with fascination as Daryl delicately twisted the screw part of the tool into the cork, then squeezed the bottle with his left hand and pulled the cork slowly out with the other. A whisper of air escaped the bottle as he opened it instead of the popping sound Beth was expecting. Without meeting her eyes Daryl put his hand out at her. She gave him her cup, surprised he wasn't going to pitch a fit about her drinking the wine.

"Are you sure you should be drinking that?" Glenn asked, his eyebrows furrowed inward.

Beth was about to start telling him all the reasons why she could.

"Pfft. Think I'd fuckin' let 'er drink it, if it was gonna hurt anything? Might even help. Here Bethy." With steady hands he passed her the brimming cup of liquid that looked like watered down blood.

A blush rose to her cheeks because he'd called her Bethy, so naturally, in a easy way. At least someone was left in the world to remind her that she was once an innocent, sweet child deserving of such a nick-name.

Daryl passed off the bottle to Tara who went around filling everyone else's cups. When she got to Rosi, the girl shook her head and held her hand up, palm out. "No thanks."

"You sure?" Tara asked, "There's plenty for everyone to have some."

"Positive. I've got first watch anyways." Rosi said, but smiled at Tara so as not to make the girl feel like she had done anything wrong. Tara was the only person Rosita made an effort to be nice to all the time. Even Beth had caught a verbal lashing or two from Rosi during boot-camp training.

Abe laughed, "Smart, beautiful, staying power of a lioness, and crazy disciplined. How exactly is it that no one ever snagged you up, girl?"

Beth let them flirt, while Glenn and Tara struck up a side conversation about their first alcohol experiences.

"You aren't having any?" She whispered to Daryl.

He stiffened for a minute, as if he'd forgotten who she was, and then she felt him relax again. His warm shoulder pressed into her as he leaned closer. "Naw. Quit drinkin' that shit, didn't like the out-of-control feeling it gave me, and I get mean."

"More so than usual?" Beth asked, teasing, hoping to bring him out of his funk before him and Glenn – who the archer's anger seemed to be focused on for some reason – got into a fist fight.

"Pfft. You don't know mean."

"I know _you_," Beth said, taking her first sip of the wine. It was reminded her of plums and blackberries, for some reason making her nostalgic for summertime, and church picnics. "Know you mean well too with bein' so overprotective, but don't ya think if this is gonna work, you're gonna have to keep seeing me as an equal, despite this." She put her hand on her belly.

"We are equals…" he muttered, his eyes cutting around the woods – always watching, always on alert.

She shook her head. "We were, for a while it felt like, until…" she pointed to her belly, and he gave a little nod acknowledging what she meant. He turned toward the fire. Beth watched his profile. He was chewing on his bottom lip again – a sign he was somewhat uncomfortable with the conversation – but his body was still relaxed, legs extended crossed over each other at the ankle, his hand dangerously close to where hers was lying – palm up – on the blanket. His eyes were dark blue tonight, and the firelight reflecting in them looked like tiny fire-flies dancing over a blue-black moon. She took another sip of wine, letting it sink into her tongue.

Then she felt his large warm hand, covering hers. "Someone has to look out for her, Beth. You're so gun-ho to do this, startin' t' think you're wishin' we hadn't done what we did, startin' t' think you don' want her at all."

She gasped, and almost choked on her wine. "What are you talking about?" She sputtered, wiping her mouth on her sweater sleeve.

"Aint hard to work out, darlin.' My ole' man didn't give a shit about me. My mom barely did. Only person ever looked out for me was Merle, and that was half assed. Keep thinking, if Ida gone lookin' with Michonne, done the Governor back then, none uh that woulda happened, and we'd still have our Lil' Asskicker. I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure this baby stays safe, even if I got to work against ya to do it."

Beth didn't like the accusation that she didn't care. So what if she didn't want her child growing up in a world where men like the Governor went free? It didn't lessen her love for him, and she honestly wasn't sure how she felt about the baby, but she wanted it, she wasn't trying to push for an abortion or anything. "She _will_ be safe. When she gets here we'll keep her safe down in the silo, nothing can get to her down there." She wasn't sure why they were referring to the baby as "she" but she suspected it was because the one baby in both their lives had been a girl, and it was just habit.

He shook his head, squeezing he her hand gently. "Aint waitin' till she's born, Beth. Startin' now, startin' fuckin' yesterday. Fuck equality – your godamm right, because I'm not lettin' the two uh you outta my sight, and ya aint gonna be takin' any risks. Since I can't lock ya up for the next nine months without ya resentin' the shit out uh me, we're gonna do this my way, and you aint leavin' my side, got that?"

"Daryl…if the prison hadn't fallen, if you'd gone with Michonne, tracked the Governor down and killed him, what happened between us – her being here now – may have never happened. We might have never worked up the nerve to tell each other how we felt."

He didn't answer immediately, and instead his eyes traced a line around the perimeter of the camp again. "And Herschel would still be alive, and you'd be safe and probably better off."

Beth sighed and took another sip of her wine, feeling a strange warm sensation in her belly. "Look, all I'm gonna say is that I do want this baby, and I do want to be with you, always and forever. I can promise you that I'm never, ever gonna regret what happened between us. I'm sorry if you think I don't care about her, because I truly do, and I'm sorry that it only amplifies my drive to kill that bastard, and make the world a better place for her to grow up in."

He inhaled deeply and turned to look at her. "Anyone ever tell ya how beautiful you are, girl? 'Specially when you're talkin' on revenge. Get this glow about ya."

She sighed, and her body relaxed. She took another sip of the wine, licking her lips. "You're changing the subject."

"Actually," his eyes flashed up at the others, and then he was digging in the pocket of his jeans. "Speakin' of 'always and forever'…" He formed her hand into a cup, and dropped something on her palm, folding her fingers over it, and squeezing his big hand around hers. He gazed into her eyes, and her body reacted instantly to the intensity beaming out of them and into her. "Didn't want t' put somethin' on your finger that came off something dead, and we aint come across any towns with jewelry stores."

He released his hold on her hand. Beth felt flutters in her stomach as she slowly uncurled her fingers and turned her hand so she could see the object in the fire-light. It was a small wooden ring, with tiny vines carved on its polished surface. As she turned the ring over in the firelight she saw one tiny word engraved on the inside. "Always." Her heart skipped a beat and she felt big, hot tears collecting in her eyes.

He was watching her closely. "Did you make this, Daryl?" She choked out, running her fingers over the engravings.

He gave a very subtle nod, his teeth clenching that bottom lip, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"When? How?" She asked. It was so delicate and tiny, and she couldn't imagine the detail work that had gone into its creation.

He shrugged. "Been workin' on it for a while. Guess I wanted t' surprise ya."

"How long exactly?" She felt like her whole body starting to buzz. Not in a million years would she have expected a gesture like this from him.

"Took the wood off a black walnut tree the day I got shot."

The significance of his statement rocked Beth to her core. It meant he was thinking of asking for her hand _before_ that first night. "I…I don't know what to say."

"I got somethin' to say."

"What's that?" Beth asked, loving the way the smooth, cool ring felt in her hand. Daryl plucked the ring out of her hand.

"Stand up, Beth." He commanded, holding out a hand to help her. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her face went beet red.

She took his hand and stood, feeling her whole body start to shake. Daryl got up on one knee. Beth heard the conversations around them stop, and she sensed the other's eyes on them. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she wobbled a little. Daryl must have seen it, because he got a grip on her hips with his large hands. "Beth Greene," Daryl said, looking up at her. "Can't offer all the things a girl like you deserves, hell can't offer any of 'em. Can't even give ya a church weddin,' a preacher-man, or the promise of another day. But I got this ring, and the vow that I'll never hurt you, and I'll always do my best t' keep ya safe. Ya make this godforsaken place livable, make it a godamm joy, and I can't help lovin' ya for it. Never gonna be anyone else for me. I mean to make you my wife, angel, if you'll have me."

"Uh course," was all she could blubber out, her face wet with tears. She knelt down in front of him, on her knees as well. She sat back on her feet for a minute, took her knife out of its scabbard on her hip, and took a hold of one of the thick braids close to the base of her neck underneath her longer hair. She lifted the knife and cut the braid off. "Don't have a ring for you," she whispered, pushing up to her knees again, and feeling his hand immediately in her hair, his fingers grazing the little stub on her scalp where she'd cut the braid out, his eyebrows forming into a V. "But this is for you." She reached up, took his hand out of her hair, and pressed the memento into his palm. "So you'll never forget me."

He looked down, and his thumb gently stroked the golden hair. He nodded, meeting her eyes again. He took a bandana out of his jacket pocket, tenderly swathed the braid, and put it in the pocket next to his heart. He leaned in, encircled her in his hot arms, and leaned down to whisper one word in her ear. "Always."

Chills dashed across her skin, and her neck flushed with heat. "I'll always love you too." She whispered back – knowing that was what he meant, and then his lips were crushing hers and he was drawing in air through his nose, and squeezing her against him, his hands moving up from her back to cup her face. Out of all the kisses they'd shared this one felt the most like he was surrendering to her. It was a vulnerable kiss, a kiss of change, a kiss full of promise for the future.

Hoots and catcalls went up around the fire as Daryl stood, and pulled Beth to her feet. The rest of the group got up and joined them. Abe slapped Daryl on the shoulder, and Glenn crossed his arms over his chest, and grinned at them both shaking his head a little. Rosita pulled Beth out of Daryl's arms to give her a big hug, which Tara joined in on.

They all settled back in again. She cuddled up against Daryl's chest, felt him almost timidly lay his big hand on her belly. "Glenn told us you have a good voice," Abe said, grinning at Beth. "I sure miss music. How about a song, Lil' Samurai, if you're up to it?"

Beth swallowed, insecurely looking up at Daryl. He nodded, and took his hand away, giving her some space to sit up better. "Bout damn time I heard ya sing again." He said, and lifted his left hand, stroking her blushing cheek with the back of his knuckle.

The song came to Beth without her even having to think about it, something about what Abe said about having not heard any music for a long time. She slowed down the rhythm, and tapped on her leg to get the pace right. She almost stopped when she heard sniffling and saw that Tara was crying, but Rosita put her arm around the girl, and nodded at Beth to continue. Beth felt all their eyes on her, and she wished Maggie was there to help her with the chorus as she worked up to the last few verses.

"_I met a girl who sang the blues  
And I asked her for some happy news  
But she just smiled and turned away  
I went down to the sacred store  
Where I'd heard the music years before  
But the man there said the music wouldn't play_

And in the streets, the children screamed  
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed  
But not a word was spoken  
The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most  
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost  
They caught the last train for the coast  
The day the music died

And they were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie  
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry  
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye  
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die  
This'll be the day that I die"

Beth looked up at the twinkling stars, she looked down at the fire, and her friends, and her new husband. The wine and the singing were making her feel sleepy. Her eyes drooped, as she watched everyone get up and make their way to bed. "So tired" she laid her head against Daryl's shoulder, cuddling up to his warm body.

"Got first watch. Get some rest. Gonna need all your energy tomorrow."

She nodded, with a yawn. "Wake me up when it's my turn." She pulled the quilt up and let him help her arrange it over her shoulders.

He scoffed. "Close your eyes, Beth."

….

She woke the next morning to the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her temple. "Get up, Miss Greene." A familiar voice commanded. Beth opened her eyes, the outline of a one-eyed man loomed over her, back-lit by sun.

Beth Greene saw red.

….

**A/N:** I know I promised a lot of action in this chapter, but sometimes the characters have other notions in mind. As you can see from the last couple paragraphs, though, the next chapter is likely to be super intense! Thanks for reading!

**Thank you to ** for inserting the phrase "Daddy Dixon" into her review of Chapter Seven. Couldn't help but find a way to use that in the story. Amazing how two words can produce a mental picture that makes you all jittery and hyper, isn't it? Daddy Dixon…Daddy Dixon…. – YES it totally works, say it with me…Daddy Dixon…Ha! That moment where he held Judith for the first time is when I fell 100% for Daryl in the show. His bad-ass side is soooo hot, but his heart of gold was my catalyst. Okay done rambling. Catch you on the flipside.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

….

"_The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for."_

~Bob Marley

….

Chapter Nine

She woke the next morning to the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her temple. "Get up, Miss Greene." A familiar voice commanded. Beth opened her eyes, the outline of a one-eyed man loomed over her, back-lit by sun.

Beth saw red.

She gave a little nod acknowledging that she would move, and the barrel left her forehead.

She rolled toward Daryl's spot, and a shock went through her as she felt two things at once, he was gone, and her katana was hidden under their blanket where he would normally be. Her fingers curled around the sword hilt. The Governor, assuming she was going to cooperate, straightened, and took a step back so she could get up. Nothing from their history gave the man any real reason to worry that Beth was a threat.

Beth took in the scene around her. Rosita, Tara, Glenn and Abe were all struggling against men holding them at gunpoint. _No_, she thought, and then _where is Daryl?_ But there wasn't time to think about that. Beth knew she had one shot at the element of surprise. In one swift motion she rose to a knee and drew the sword bringing the tip of it to rest against the lump in the Governor's pants. "What the…" he muttered, looking down. His black eyes widened, then narrowed, and his face drooped into a disapproving frown.

Beth squinted against the sun blazing brightly from behind the Governor's back, she rose up to her knees, careful not to let the weapon waver. "Unless ya want to lose another body part, I suggest you don't… move…. a muscle," she told him drawing the last few words out, secretly astounded by the eerie calmness of her own voice.

The Governor held his hands out, turning the barrel of his giant revolver skyward. He swallowed hard, and then gave an uneasy chuckle. "Miss Greene, you see my men have your friends." His voice was patronizing. "If you want them to live, I would think very hard about where you're putting your play toy." He gestured down at the sword pressed to his genitals, creating an indention in the fabric between the tip of the sword and his skin.

Beth didn't feel like talking, and the Governor's powers of persuasion had long since lost any sway it may have had over her. The man was a liar. She put a small, controlled amount of pressure on the sword, drawing a drip of blood. The Governor flinched. She growled. "You move an inch and I swear to God I'll castrate ya."

"Boss?" A male voice called.

"Relax Tanner." The Governor replied, never removing his one ugly eye from her own. "Now, I don't want to have to hurt you or your friends, Miss Green, but I think you know me well enough now to know that I will, if you force my hand."

"Its Mrs. Dixon now," she said, trying to hold still under the rising tide of crimson rage jet streaming through her body at his threat. The Governor's eyes widened and she saw him search the forest behind her, his eyes cutting twice over the tree-line. _He's looking for Daryl_, she realized. She watched as an expression of vulnerability, and a hint of fear, crossed his scruffy face before he masked it with a calculated half-smile.

"Is that so?"

She nodded. "Where is my good friend, Merle's, brother? I'd like to congratulate him."

"Dunno, I reckon' we'll be findin' out real soon though, don't you?" Beth smiled at him, allowing her eyes to blaze brightly, a small display of the erupting fury boiling behind them.

Beth glanced at the herculean man the Governor called Tanner. He was holding a squirming Rosita around the throat with one sinewy forearm, and he had a gun pressed to her ribcage. Rosi gave Beth a look, a look that said _kill that bastard and end this. _

The man who brutally murdered Beth's father, the man who assaulted Maggie, the man who had killed and hurt so many people was so close that Beth could smell the scent of fear rolling off him…She knew this was as close as he would ever be. This was her one and only chance. The Governor would never allow her near him again, and the minute she surrendered the deadly katana he would probably deal her the same fate he had her father. It was now or never.

Beth channeled the river of red scorching through her veins focusing all her hatred out through her arm, and wrist, distributing a massive amount of energy into mapping out the kinetic web of movement she intended to make before she made it. She shoved the sword forward, up and around, feeling the blade shred through fabric, skin, muscle, and finally scrape against his pubic bone. The cut was a subtle yet precise backward C shape, one she had practiced on the dummy back at the silo, during her katana training, at least a hundred times. The Governor shrieked and bent forward, momentarily forgetting her and the entire world, she guessed, with the amount of pain he was in.

Everything went into slow motion. Beth saw the back of her enemy's neck exposed in front of her, and at the same time a bolt soared past her, from the south, plummeting smack dab into the side of Tanner's throat. Rosi grabbed Tanner's gun as he fell, pivoted, and pointed it at the man holding Tara. Abe seeing his guard's momentary loss of focus elbowed the taller man in the stomach, and then he cold cocked him in cheek as he was reacting to the first blow, the sound of bone shattering could be heard from where Beth knelt at least fifty feet away. Abraham yanked the gun out of the guard's hand, and shot him in the head before turning his gun on the guard holding Glenn.

Beth centered her attention on the cringing man in front of her. Blood pooled in the Governor's jeans where her sword had punctured him. He was still doubled over – stupidly exposing his himself to her. He glanced up meeting her eyes, and his expression was a mixture of puzzlement, agony, and rage. His mouth formed a silent scream. He jerked, and slowly began to lift his gun arm in Beth's direction.

Moving like a ghost, Beth extracted the sword from his genitals, stood, and spun one hundred and eighty degrees, raising the sword in the air above her head. As her pivot put her in position, she drew from its momentum and drove the katana downward with all her strength. Sunlight glinted off the shiny blade before it sliced through the back of the Governor's neck. Blood spurted everywhere, and Beth took a step back, gasping. A clean cut – unlike the butchery he made of her father's death - and what was left of the Governor fell to the ground in two separate pieces.

She was shaking from head to toe, her entire upper body drenched in fresh blood, the sword dripping with it. The stuff was spattered in her face and eyes, and she tasted it in her mouth. She let out a groan and fell to her knees beside the body of her nemesis, feeling lighter somehow – as if she hadn't even known the magnitude of the burden she was carrying until that very moment.

"Did you see what that blond did to the boss?" A deep voice yelled from somewhere in front of her. So the Governor had more men. Beth glanced up, seeing two dark shapes running at her, guns drawn.

"Get that bitch."

"Beth," She heard Glenn scream her name, his voice full of panic. She looked his way and saw him wrestling to free his arms from the grip of the soldier holding him. She heard a gunshot, and Glenn's guard fell to the ground. Glenn pointed at Beth, and Abe shook his head taking off in the direction of the Governor's men running toward her.

She saw a blur of movement coming her way. There was nothing to do, no time to get close enough with the sword to touch the men approaching her before they shot her, and the Governor had taken her gun before waking her up. Beth closed her eyes, letting her head fall down, waiting, expecting her death to come at any moment– hoping it was a bullet to the head so she didn't turn. Instead there was a bloodcurdling scream from the direction the men had been coming from.

She opened her eyes to see Daryl straddling one of the men, who was lying on the ground on his back. Daryl was stabbing the man in the face with his knife repeatedly, screaming with rage as he did it. The other man; a big shaggy-haired, tan, blond – who kind of looked like a surfer to Beth - had stopped running toward her and was raising his gun to aim at Daryl, his finger on the trigger.

Beth jumped up, and repositioned her hand on the hilt of her blade, holding it like _Anthony Perkins_ held the knife from the shower scene in _Psycho_. She drew it back and used her remaining strength to hurl it in the direction of the man aiming his gun at her husband. She watched as the blade spiraled through the space between them like a ballistic missile. It entered the man's stomach through the side, penetrating all the way through his body, and protruding out of his opposite hip. The man fell to his knees, his blond shaggy hair hanging in his eyes. He looked down at his body touching the blood blossoming on his shirt, and then he fell forward on his face. Beth sank to the ground, completely drained.

"Walkers," Beth heard Abe alert from behind her.

But Beth only had eyes for Daryl. She watched him stab the man underneath him one final time before he got up and swiveled on his feet, seeing the surfer guy with her katana through his waist. He finally turned to look at her, and his eyes widened wildly. She flinched as he sent his knife flying over her head. Beth looked back just in time to see the knife sticking out of a walker's forehead – no more than two feet behind her. She barely had time to move before another walker was on her. She reached for her knife, cursing as she remembered it was gone.

Beth looked frantically around her for anything she could use to kill the walker. She saw a metal skewer from someone's squirrel lying several feet away. Beth scrambled over to it – on hands and knees - and turned to swat off the walkers embrace. With a grunt she kicked the beast in the leg, feeling its brittle bone crack underneath her boot, giving her a split second of opportunity, before it was reaching for her with its grotesque mouth again. She shoved the skewer into the monster's empty eye socket and upward, perforating its brain. Its weight fell on top of her and they hit the ground together. "Don't move," Daryl called as he ran by and she heard him yank the knife out of the nearby walkers head, "It's almost over. Stay put."

She heard his boots stomping through the grass away from her. There was a whooshing sound, someone yelling, and the sound of gunfire.

Beth shoved the corpse off of her, gagging at its smell combined with the taste of the Governor's blood still lingering in her mouth.

The campsite was a disaster area, everything was thrown into disarray. Rosita was dispatching a walker about twenty feet away, Beth couldn't see Abraham or Glenn, and Tara was kneeling down to pull her knife out of a twice-dead skull.

Daryl was over by the RV bent over one of the Governor's men. He ripped the assault rifle out of the dead man's hands, and with the gun raised he started sneaking around the side of the camper, probably going to assist Abe and Glenn. Beth couldn't see either of them, and she assumed it was because they were behind the RV where the gunshots and yells were coming from. Apparently someone from the Governor's group was still alive.

Beth stumbled over to the body of shaggy blond she'd thrown her sword through. She wrenched him onto his back, sensing jerky movement from his body, and saw that he was turning. She leaned over him, and pulled the sword out of his stomach. He shuddered, and his eyes shot open, glazed over and bloodshot. He reached for her with a low groan, and his arms lifted toward her. Beth sighed, and ran her blade into the dead man's forehead, until she felt the tip hit the earth underneath it.

A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she used her sword hilt to lower herself into a kneeling position on the ground. Her head was swimming, her stomach felt a little queasy, and she needed to catch her breath. She was about to get up, and go help the others when she felt a presence nearby. She straightened, getting a grip on the katana.

"You okay?" Beth looked up. He was dirty and covered in blood, but Daryl Dixon was still a sight for sore eyes. His Stryker was strapped to his back, and he was holding the assault rifle in his right hand. Glenn and Abe came around the back of the RV dragging a woman – who wasn't moving - between them.

Beth gave her husband a reassuring nod, and put her hands up so he could lift her to her feet. He stepped in front of her, bending down a little - his big warm hand wrapped around her arm, keeping her steady - so he was even with her eyes. He studied her face, his blue eyes squinting with scrutiny, like he was making sure she was still in there. No telling what she looked like to him, but Beth hoped her eyes reflected the strange sense of serenity she felt. She knew he could use the reassurance, but she doubted she could explain the feeling in words. "I am now," she answered, "I think."

He studied her a moment longer with those worryingly intelligent cerulean eyes pinned on hers, before he grabbed her, and pulling her against his chest where she could hear his heart pounding. She thought she saw his chin quiver as released her just as abruptly, stepped back, nodded, and looked away toward the others.

She observed his profile, watching his jaw flex, and his eyes narrow as he surveyed the boys dragging the seemingly unconscious woman toward them.

"Any particular reason you're keeping that one alive?" Daryl asked, as the others all came in together with him and Beth.

Glenn held out a hand, "She was knocked out cold, man. We can't just execute her, Daryl." He gestured toward the Governor's body. "That's something he would have done."

Daryl's questioning gaze cut over to Abe, who shrugged.

Daryl had dropped his grip on Beth's body but his fingertips were still touching hers. Beth slid her fingers up so their hands were intertwined. She gave his hand a little squeeze. He glanced down at her for a fraction of a second before nodding his head. "Makes sense," he finally answered, biting his lip. "Can question her when she wakes up. Maybe the bitch knows something about Terminus."

"Where were you?" Rosita asked Daryl.

He shrugged. "Heard a fuckin' freak in the forest. Got up t' kill it. Came back and saw 'em moving in on ya. Was waitin' over there" he pointed toward the forest, "for a good chance to approach."

"Thanks to our Lil' Samurai, we got that chance." Abe winked at her.

"She killed Brian too." Tara pointed out, and they all turned around to look at the brunette standing several feet away looking down at something. Beth realized it was the Governor's reanimated head, chomping and biting its teeth, trying to get at Tara, who kicked it away in disgust.

Daryl nodded, and reached his hand up placing it on her lower back. "Now that, darlin,' was poetic justice." he stated, and gave her butt a little swat, before he walked over by where Tara was hovering over the Governor's head. Daryl crouched down three or four feet from the head, and looked up at Beth. "You wanna do the honors?"

Beth's stomach rolled unexpectedly. She shook her head, put her hand over her mouth and ran toward the trees, hearing footsteps behind her. She put her hand on the first tree she came to, doubled over and proceeded to puke up her dinner.

"And so it begins." Rosi said, coming up to hold Beth's hair out of her face.

"Ugh," Beth said, straightening when she finished. She spit, and wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

Rosita grinned at her. "At least the little guy has good timing. It would have sucked to be hurling during the fight."

Beth straightened and glanced over Rosita's shoulder. She saw Tara say something to Daryl. He nodded, stood and backed away from the head. Tara walked over to the head, pressed her boot onto its temple – holding it still, and then stabbed her knife into it, twisting before she pulled the knife out again. The head went still.

Beth's eyes started to sting, and she put her hand up against the tree again – steadying herself – as a quiet sob came out. Rosi's grin faded. "Aww, sweety, Beth," Rosi said, taking a step forward and cupping her hands on Beth's cheeks, "It's over. You did it. You prevented God only knows how many innocent deaths. You're free again, you understand?" She patted Beth's hair, "We're going to go kill those Terminus motherfuckers, save your sister and be home in time for Halloween, got that?"

Beth gave a little nod, feeling her friend's arms around her shoulders.

Beth hugged Rosita back, still feeling a little shaky as they broke apart and headed over to rejoin the others.

"Can't miss Halloween," Rosi said with a laugh, "Gene's gonna dress up as _Ironman_."

Daryl was collecting his bolts and casting glances their way as they approached. The others were ensuring none of the dead would get up again.

Rose looped her arm around Beth's, both girls covered in blood and gore, and they walked – arm-in-arm back to the campsite. "Rosi?" Beth asked.

"Yep?" Rosita said, popping the 'p.'

Beth actually smiled at the image she was seeing in her head. "He's not really dressing up like _Ironman, _is he?"

Rosi laughed, "Yeah, he told me he was going to start working on the costume in his free time. He thinks it would be fun if we all dressed up." She shrugged, "He wants us to, you know, like actually celebrate a holiday again or something." She rolled her eyes, "Sometimes I wonder about that boy. Every fucking day is Halloween, on crack, around here." She let go of Beth to gesture around them. "I told him he needed to get out more."

….

Beth cleaned her katana off on a grubby rag and stored it back in the sheath, collecting her and Daryl's bed rolls. Their prisoner hadn't woken up yet, and they'd decided to tie her up in the back of the truck and continue on to Terminus.

The boys and Rosi were stripping the RV of stuff they might need in the future. Beth's stomach was growling loudly and Rosi – hearing it, and laughing - made Beth stop and eat a piece of leftover cornbread before they departed.

….

Beth and Daryl sat in the back of the truck with Glenn and Tara who had the unconscious prisoner between them on the opposite seat. "Do you know her?" Beth asked Tara, having to raise her voice over the roar of the engine.

Tara shook her head. "She wasn't with him before. Probably just some straggler the bastard recruited, most likely under false pretenses."

Beth almost jumped when she felt a weight on her thigh, and looked down to see Daryl's hand there. He was watching the road behind them, occasionally glancing up at the sky. "Think it may actually work," he commented, nodding up at the dark, heavy clouds gathering in the south. "That crazy fuckin' genius was right."

They needed the cover of the storm event for the first step in their plan of attack against Terminus. Beth welcomed the rain. She'd changed into camo capri's and a black tank-top so her clothes were relatively clean but there was no running water so her skin was still caked with dried blood. She looked down at Daryl's hand on her thigh and a jolt of prideful pleasure went through her. She was his through and through, and he was saying as much with that tan, calloused hand resting on her thigh.

She put her hand on top of his, and upon feeling her touch, his attention immediately shifted to her. He looked down at her tiny white hand on top of his. The ring fit her perfectly, and she rubbed it softly against his knuckles.

Daryl reached up with his left hand and pulled her head toward him. She felt his scruffy face nestling against her cheek and neck, then his hot breath against her ear. "How's our girl, Mrs. Dixon?" He whispered in her ear.

Beth's face flushed, and her skin started tingling. She touched her belly with her right hand, surprised that it was the first time she was thinking of the baby since her morning sickness episode after killing the Governor. "Hungry," Beth admitted. The cornbread wasn't enough.

He released her and dug in the pocket of his leather jacket producing a Ziploc back of venison jerky. Beth's face lit up. He brought snacks? The archer never ceased to amaze her. He handed her the bag wearing a little smirk. He shook his head, chuckling, as she eagerly took the bag. Beth picked a nice juicy strip, and started gnawing away on it. "Mornin' sickness startin' on ya." He noted.

She nodded. "I think so. Bad timin.'"

They road in silence for a while, and Beth chewed on the jerky and thought about the task ahead of them. She felt relieved that they weren't going to have to deal with the Governor and all his men on top of the cult members. It was still surreal thinking that the Governor was finally dead. He'd died at her hands – well the first time at least – and he'd died underestimating her. She wondered how many others would make that same fatal mistake. It was why she was essential to the plan. Because Beth and Tara were to be the moles – infiltrating Terminus from inside the fences, while the others terrorized the cult with guerilla warfare tactics from outside. "Daryl," she said, noticing he was nodding off a bit.

He jerked upright and looked at her. "Woman you better get some sleep while you got the chance."

She gave him a smile. "Remember what you were sayin' earlier 'bout keepin' me by your side at all times?"

"Yeah," he said, stretching.

"Well you know that isn't going to work if were gonna stick to the plan."

He inhaled deeply. "And?"

"I was hopin' after what happened today that you might have a little more faith" she faltered under his scrutinizing gaze. "That you might value my part in this now, and let me do what I can to help."

He sighed. "You're a godamm warrior, Beth. Proved that yerself t'day. Saved yerself, gave the others a chance, and killed that one-eyed prick like a fuckin' pro. May have underestimated ya again, angel. Gonna make a lot of mistakes, but m'never gonna stop tryin' t' get it right."

She reached for his hand, not liking the ring of guilt in his husky voice. "S'okay," she said, "I kinda like your protective side."

He cocked his head. "Ya do, huh?"

She smiled flirtatiously batting her eyelashes at him. "Just shows how much you care."

"Never knew I could love someone so much. S' a little scary, darlin,' t' be honest."

She grinned at him saying he loved her. "You're doin' just fine." She said. She reached up pulled his face down for a kiss, feeling his long bangs tickle her eyes. He inhaled sharply as their lips pressed together and he drew her toward him with one big arm. She pulled her mouth away a little and whispered, "But you got to let me finish this."

He cupped her face with his hot hand, and kissed her again, softly this time with his eyes open and gazing into hers. He pulled back and gave her a little nod. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her up onto his lap. Daryl held her – with her head resting on his chest, and his chin sitting on top of her head, while she slowly drifted off to sleep, consciously aware of the weightlessness in her heart. Maybe the rage was gone for good, or maybe it would come right back the next time someone wronged her. Beth could only pray that no one else ever crossed that line again.

….

Thunder rolled, and lightning lit up the train station barely visible through the trees. Daryl handed Beth her backpack, and helped her swing it on. Her katana was strapped to his back next to the Stryker. The others stood a few feet away saying their farewells to Tara.

The woman who they'd taken from the campsite was still unconscious. They had no idea if she would ever wake up, but if she did Daryl would question her, and if any new information came out, they'd send Glenn and Rosita in to update Beth and Tara on the plan.

Daryl got in front of her, blocking her from seeing the others with his broad shoulders. He reached up and played with one of her curls. "Remember, the fires are the signal."

"I know. Don't worry." She reached up and touched his chest with both hands. He bent down and put his large hands on her hips, holding her in place against him.

"Don' wanna lose you," he pushed her gently back, released one of her hips and laid his hand on her belly, "or her."

"I promise we're going to be okay."

He nodded, moving his hand from her belly to wrap around the back of her head, pulling her into an embrace. "Be mindful of what's around ya at all times, Beth, don' take any risks ya don' have t.'"

She nodded against his warmth, inhaling his intrinsically Daryl smell – smoke, leather, grease, and blood. They'd all scrubbed down with bottled water and rags, but the blood lingered – and would – until they could scrub it off with soap. "I won't."

"An' the plan doesn't change if ya fin' any of our people in there. Stick t' the plan."

She reached up and put her arms around his neck, pushing up on her tippy toes. "We keep each other safe, so come find me," she murmured, feeling his strong arms wrap around her waist, and lift her off the ground.

"Ya know I always will." he whispered back, making her skin tingle. He leaned his head back a bit and their lips met. It was a tender, sweet kiss, a kiss that felt so much like 'goodbye' that a lump grew in her throat, and her eyes started to water. Walking away from Daryl Dixon was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done.

He carefully let loose of her, and Beth's feet found the ground again. A raindrop hit her cheek. She looked up at the stormy sky. _Thank you Lord_, she prayed, _Thank you for my family, and for your protection, and for this doozy of a storm. Please just keep him safe, Lord, and give me the strength to walk away._

….

"Welcome" said the woman, who was probably in her late forties to early fifties, layered in a dress, a shirt, and a grey wool sweater. She had hazel eyes, long flowing mousy brown hair, and a hospitable smile. "I'm Mary. You girls are the first we've seen in a while. Look like you've been on the road a long time."

Beth let Tara do the talking, while she memorized the buildings, their shapes, forming a grid and mental map in her mind. "W…we…saw the signs," Tara said, her voice shaking. Beth slid her hand around the other girls, and gave it a little squeeze. Tara cleared her throat. "Is it really safe here?"

Mary's smile grew, and she opened her arms to them. "Yes, you're safe now. Both of you."

Beth saw movement out of the corner of her eyes. Two large, armed men wearing riot gear walked side-by-side on the sidewalk across from them. Beth stiffened. Mary must have instantly read her reaction, because she turned to look over her shoulder as the men passed by. "Don't worry," she murmured, "those are just some of our perimeter guards. You arrived during our shift change. They help to keep us safe. Here," she said gesturing for them to follow, "Let's get you out of the rain. You look half-starved."

Tara waited for Beth's nod before they took off after the woman, keeping their eyes peeled for anybody that either of them knew. As they walked through the town Beth heard Eugene's voice echoing in her mind.

"_The word 'Terminus,' has historical ties to Atlanta. 'Terminus' translates roughly to 'the end of the line.' In the 1830's there was a settlement called 'Terminus' at the end of the Western and Atlantic Railroad line. Furthermore, 'Terminus' is also Latin for border, and it was the name of a Roman God who guarded boundary markings. Someone in that town must be exceedingly clever to have named the place so appropriately. We can rule out any theories that we are dealing with a bunch of imbecilic hillbillies." _

Beth cleared her mind of Gene's warning as she saw several people in natural looking clothes walking by, giving them friendly waves. Tara caught Beth's eyes and raised an eyebrow. Beth gave her head a little shake and shrugged. No one had checked them for weapons, and no one – other than the perimeter guards – looked even remotely scary.

They walked around a series of raised garden beds filled with a variety of produce, and herbs. "We grow as much as we can inside the fences, and we're planning a garden for next spring in a bigger location. I don't suppose either of you have a green thumb?" Mary asked, grinning at them over her shoulder. Beth noted they were approaching a brick building. Over the door a sign said "_cafeteria_."

The rain was coming down in a fine mist but – in the distance – over the forest where she knew the other's were perched - the sky was black, and lightening flashed every few seconds, making it look like there was a humongous strobe light dangling behind the clouds. "My daddy was a farmer." Beth said, folding her arms around her body as they entered what was apparently the cafeteria, a more public area.

"Excellent," Mary replied, "A farmer's daughter, I'm sure we could use your expertise."

People sat clustered at tables, and the aroma of meat cooking lingered in the air. As Beth imagined what the smell could be, her stomach flipped, and she clamped down onto Tara's hand. The girl looked at her, her eye brows furrowed in concern, and then her eyes widened, as if she suddenly understood Beth's reaction. "You're turning green, Beth," Tara whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Beth scrambled to find an excuse for her sudden sickness. "I'm…I'm pregnant, sorry, the smell of food…" it was all she could say before she clapped a hand over her mouth and dodged past a bewildered looking Tara, hitting the door and bending over the railing outside to throw up.

She sensed the door opening behind her, and heard it click shut. She straightened, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I'm sorry…" she was about to say _if I ruined anyone's dinner_, when she locked eyes with the tall brown haired man she knew to be Garreth – the man that had been meeting with the Governor. Mary was standing beside Garreth, an expression of awe on her face.

"You're pregnant?" Mary asked, "I mean, you're sure you're pregnant?"

Beth nodded, noting the mirrored expression of awe on Garreth's face. "Congratulations," Garreth said, smiling, "I'm Garreth. I heard we had some visitors, and wanted to introduce myself. I'm afraid we're a little shocked. No one in the community has…" his sentence trailed off as he gestured toward her, and got a lopsided grin on his face, "we were starting to worry that reproduction was no longer possible, after the infection."

"Oh it's possible," Beth said rubbing her stomach, trying to work up the nerve to go back inside. Tara came out the door, and Mary and Garreth turned to greet her.

The rain was starting to pick up, and Beth felt several drops hit her neck, and start traveling down the length of her back. "Come inside," Mary said, reaching a hand out to her.

Beth shook her head, "I'm afraid I can't handle the smell of food just yet. Is there somewhere that Tara and I could go to rest? I'm sorry, but we've been walking for days."

"You should eat something," Mary said frowning, "for the child's sake at least."

Beth slid two protective hands over her middle section, not liking the way that both of the Terminus members were looking at her. "We've eaten," Tara announced, "We got lucky, and caught a squirrel for lunch. But we're both totally exhausted."

Garreth seemed to come out of his dazed stare at Beth. "Of course, you can use one of the guest rooms tonight. Tomorrow, if you decide to stay, we'll find something more permanent for you. You both go," he used his arms to guide them toward Mary, "Mary will take you to a guest room, and I'll see you in the morning, and tell you a little more about this place."

"Thank you" Beth said, accepting Tara's arm, as they followed Mary away from the cafeteria. They heard the door shut behind them, and Beth glanced over her shoulder, letting out the breath she was holding when she saw that Garreth was gone. She knew what Rosita meant now, about the guy giving her the creeps. There was just something about him, something Beth didn't trust.

"We have prenatal vitamins at the clinic," Mary said, leading them down a well-lit alley. Beth glanced up, seeing movement on the roof, and a fit looking man, probably in his thirties, saluted her from the rooftop of the nearest building. She noted that he had a sniper rifle propped on his thick shoulder. "I'll come by in the morning, take you for breakfast, and then we'll go see Dr. Delaware. That's not really his name but he is a doctor, and he hails from Dover, Delaware. He's Indian, so it's easier than using his surname which none of us can actually pronounce."

Beth nodded and gave Mary a weak smile. She looked up again, counting another two sniper guards on the adjourning rooftop. She noticed that there were no guards in the residential part of the compound that they had just entered. Beth also noticed that Mary had taken them on an extra long route to get to the residential area, avoiding certain parts of the compound altogether, the same parts they had avoided on the way in. "Thanks," Beth said, realizing that Mary was waiting for her response to the offer for her to see their doctor. "I don't need a doctor, though. I'm not sick, just pregnant." She smiled and touched her belly.

"A blessed miracle," Mary said, bowing her head in reverence, before gesturing to a brick building to their left, the trim painted in bright white. "This is our guest home." She slipped a hand inside her sweater pocket and withdrew a normal looking key on a white ribbon. "Here," she gave the key to Beth, smiling encouragingly.

"We want you to feel at home here. You will find snacks in the kitchen, hot water in the shower, and two bedrooms with clean beds. If you have need of anything, there will be someone at the common area at all times – day and night – who can assist you."

Beth took the key.

Mary went up the stairs to the front door and opened it, going inside. The two girls followed after her, giving each other perplexed looks. Beth had not been expecting such a warm welcome, and if it wasn't for the smell of human flesh in the cafeteria she might doubt that these people were actually cannibals. _It could have been some other kind of meat_, Beth told herself. She could have simply psyched herself out and, in her condition her sense of smell was extra sensitive.

"So," Mary said, flipping a small lamp on in the living room. The room was small with hard-wood floors, a simple white rug, two navy blue wing backed chairs, a rectangular blond wood coffee table and a comfortable looking brown couch. "Sleep well, and we'll see you in the morning. I can't imagine how the two of you – well you barely look like women even – survived out there, but you can put all of that behind you now. In here, we're a family, and we've been very successful at keeping the infected out. Tomorrow, one of our members will give you the grand tour, and an orientation interview. Well," she said, wiping her palms on her skirt, "Goodnight." She went to the door and closed it behind her.

Tara opened her mouth, but Beth put a finger over her lips indicating not to speak yet. She began searching the room, every nook and cranny, for any cameras or recording devices. Tara caught on and started to help. Finally they both flopped down on the couch. "The rooms clean. I can't believe it." Beth said, feeling a hunger pang blossoming in her stomach.

Tara nodded, "This place freaks me out."

"That makes two of us. I'm starving. I wish there was some way to know if the food was poisoned or not."

"There is."

Beth looked over at the girl, slumped on the couch, her brown bangs tucked behind her ear, her arm crossing her belly, and Tara looked over and met her eyes. "While we're in here, I'll try everything first. And you'll make up some excuse to wait at least five minutes after I eat, before you eat anything." She shrugged, "we aren't going to be here that long, it should work."

Beth frowned. "No way. That's an awful idea, Tara. Why would you even suggest that?"

"Because I owe you, big-time." Tara muttered, looking away and shaking her head.

"What are you talking about?"

Tara crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, Beth, I won't be the reason you don't make it back to that man, okay, so just let me try the food first.

"Ummm, no, I don't think so." Beth said, shaking her head, "let's come up with something else."

"Oh come on, the ancient Romans did that shit all the time."

"We aren't in ancient Rome, and you aren't my slave, nor do you owe me anything." Beth replied, a smile tickling the edges of her lips. Tara was insane if she thought Beth was going to let her be her food taster. She curled her legs up on the couch. "Do you see a clock?" She asked, glancing around the room.

Tara looked around, got up, and disappeared into the dark kitchen. A light flipped on and Beth saw polished concrete floors, brand new cabinets and stainless steel appliances. Beth glanced over at the curtained window, seeing a black shape move past. She stood up, and snuck cautiously over to the side of the window, barely moving the curtains so she could glance out. There was a man walking in the dimly lit street, he was wearing a berretta cap on his head, and carrying a rifle over his shoulder, his gait stuck out to Beth, because it almost seemed like he was marching. Beth watched him until he disappeared around the corner of the building after theirs. "Dude," Tara called from the kitchen, "There's no clock, but come see what I fucking found."

Beth tiptoed away from the window and joined the brunette in the kitchen, unable to conceal the mutual excitement she felt as the girl lifted a fresh jar of _Nutella _up like she was clutching the Holy Grail.

….

"When do you think the fires will start?" Tara asked, still not asleep. They'd decided to sleep in the same bed, feeling safer that way, and every time Beth drifted off Tara would say something and wake her up again.

And every time that happened Beth got to thinking about Daryl, she started missing the safe feeling of his body tucked around to hers, and the warmth she felt when he held her. She wondered where he was, and if he was thinking about her too. "Not until the storm gets really bad."

Beth felt Tara nod next to her.

"Get some sleep, Tara. We're going to need it."

"Beth?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm terrified."

Beth felt Tara's hand find hers. They held hands, listening to the sounds of the night, unaccustomed to the sounds of sleeping train station.

"I won't let them hurt you." Tara whispered.

Beth smiled despite her half-asleep state. "We're kin now," she mumbled, "We'll keep each other safe."

….

**A/N: ** Some big stuff coming in chapter ten, guys. Hope you enjoyed this one. Reviews are welcome

PS. Did everyone see TWD season five world premier video on youtube?…..oh…my….gosh…I…can't….wait! And I love that you people know how I feel!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**Special thanks to **rubiredslippers for taking the time to beta read this chapter for me! So glad you're back!

….

Chapter Ten

Shouts from the street below woke Beth from her nightmare. "Wake up, Tara, it's time," Beth said, nudging Tara up. They dressed quickly, grabbed the bag, and went to the window to see if everything was clear.

It was still dark, but from somewhere far from their building they could see a red glow, and the smell of smoke was unmistakable. The diversions would be on-going, throughout the night, and would hopefully buy Beth and Tara time to search the compound. "Come on, it's clear," Beth whispered.

The girls ducked out of their door and stuck close to the shadows that the looming buildings provided. Tara followed Beth as she took several turns and they came to a larger warehouse type building. They quieted went in, and Tara pulled her flashlight out of her bag, turning it on and pointing it at the room in front of them. "What the fuck?" Tara said, as her flashlight beam illuminated some kind of memorial room, candles were everywhere and little messages; names and dates were inscribed on the floors and walls along with personal effects. It was like a creepy shrine. The same words "Never Again. Never Trust. We First, Always" were painted everywhere, small and big, on the walls and the floors."

"Creepy" Beth said, feeling a chill go up her spine. "Let's move on." She gestured toward a door on the other side of the room. Tara followed and they were careful not disturb anything on the floor.

Beth slowly pushed the door open, seeing some fences. Her eyes landed on two enormous box-cars stacked not far away. She pushed the door open further and it squeaked a little. Beth froze, searching the shadows for movement. After a full minute, she felt safe that no one had heard them, and no one was around. "Look," she pointed at the box-cars, and Tara nodded.

The two girls crept across the gravel yard to the box-cars. Beth went to investigate the car on bottom while Tara stood guard. Beth gave a tiny rap with her knuckle on the box-car. "Is anyone in there?" She whispered loudly.

She tensed as she heard movement. "Help us," someone cried from inside the bottom box car, "Oh god, please help us."

"Are there people in the car above you?" Beth whispered.

There was a second of silence. "They stopped moving around a couple days ago."

Beth's stomach turned, and she gulped in air, trying not to vomit.

"Okay," Beth said, "We have people outside the fences, and we have a plan, but I can't get you out of there yet if it's going to work."

"Don't leave us, please," a voice cried, and it sounded like a child.

Beth shook her head, knowing they couldn't see her. "We won't. We're going to get you out but you just have to be patient a little longer."

"Please… we're starving, how much longer?"

Beth looked over her shoulder and met Tara's eyes. It took everything she had for Beth not to open the boxcar. "It'll be tomorrow. You'll hear some explosions, and then we'll come and get you out. Be ready."

"Too long," an older voice called. "Some of us won't make it that long."

Beth looked at Tara again. "We'll try to bring you some food and water in the next few hours. Just sit tight. We can't get caught or we won't be able to help you."

"Okay," a reluctant voice replied, "Just hurry."

"Before I go," Beth whispered, "Is Maggie Greene in there?"

"Who?"

"Maggie. She's my sister. Tall, short brown hair."

"I'm sorry, lady, there's no Maggie in here."

Beth took a deep breath. If anyone else she knew was in the box-car, they would have known it was her when she said Maggie Green was her sister. "Beth, Beth Greene is that you." A voice called from inside the car. Beth froze. The voice was as familiar to her as her own mothers.

"Carol?"

"Oh my God, Beth, is it really you."

Beth's heart was pounding, "It's me. Carol, do you know where anyone else from our group is?"

"Tyreese is in here with me. He's sick, he needs help or he's going to die."

Beth swallowed, "How long does he have?"

There was a moment of silence. "A day, two at the most. He needs water, he's badly dehydrated."

"Are you okay, Carol?"

"I'm hungry, and terrified, been stuck in here two weeks. Beth…they…they took Judith."

Beth felt her palms tingle, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. "What did you just say?"

She heard Carol clear her throat. "Judith. Tyreese and I had the baby, we took her from the prison, and came here, hoping to meeting up with the rest of you, but they took Judy, and put us in here. I don't know where she is. Is Rick with you?"

Judith was alive. At least two weeks ago she had been, and she was probably somewhere inside Terminus. "No, I haven't seen Rick since the prison…or anyone, except Daryl and Glenn. We have some other people, a new group, helping us."

"Oh thank god."

"Carol, I have to go. We got a good plan. Keep the others alive for a little while longer. We'll try to bring some food and water."

"Be careful, Beth."

Getting a wave of dizziness, Beth pressed her forehead against the box car. "I will. We'll be back."

She nodded at Tara, and they continued past the box-cars, through a series of what looked like large dog kennels. "What is that?" Tara asked, shining her flashlight on a pile of bones inside one of the fenced rooms.

"Some of those are human." Beth covered her mouth with her hand.

Tara nodded, and tugged on Beth's sleeve. "Jesus Christ, this place is a fucking nightmare."

They passed the fences and entered another area of the compound. They heard the sounds of shouting and ducked behind a building, watching as two men ran by with buckets of water in their hands running toward a building with flames licking out of the windows. "That's the second fire," Beth whispered. "We've got an hour."

"Look," Tara replied, pointing. Beth followed the line of Tara's finger and saw a lone box-car under a large metal awning by the fence.

"We should check it out."

Tara nodded, and held her knife up. They had decided to leave behind their weapons – except for their knives – behind with the group, wanting to come off weaker than they were.

They crept over to the box-car, and Tara stood watch while Beth rapped on the car and whispered, "Hello?"

There was the sound of scraping metal and a deep voice answered. "Who is that?"

Beth's gasped. She knew that voice anywhere. "Rick? Rick Grimes?"

"Beth," a distinctly female voice called.

"Maggie!" Beth almost yelled.

"Shhhh," Tara called to her.

"Maggie, is that you?"

"Bethie? Oh my God, Beth, you have to get out of here now! You have to run and hide. You don't know what these people are capable of."

"No way," Beth said, "We have a plan. We're getting you out of here."

"Beth, who is 'we'?" Rick asked.

"Is Carl in there? Michonne?"

"All of us, except for Glenn, Daryl, Carol, Tyreese, Judith, and some of the others from Woodbury." She heard Carl answer.

"Carol and Tyreese are here too, in another box-car," Beth told them, "And Rick, she said she and Tyreese found Judith, they had her and brought her here with them. They took her away. Your daughter is here somewhere."

There was silence. "Beth, open the door." Rick said.

Beth felt Tara coming up behind her. "We got company."

"Guys, I have to go. Stay put. We're going to get you out, but it's going take a little time."

"Beth," Rick hissed, at the same time Maggie said her name. "Open the door. We'll help you."

"Sorry," she said, "You're just going to have to trust us."

"Beth, listen to me," Maggie said, "This is too big for you. Let us out. Let us help."

Beth wanted so much to see her sister's face, to tell her about Glenn, to have her safe in her arms but she knew things would fall apart if a bunch of them started running around the compound. Of course, Rick, Maggie and the others couldn't understand how much strategic planning had gone into their rescue. "I'm sorry, I love you guys. We'll be back."

She felt Tara pulling her away, and they barely made it to the safety of the darkness before two perimeter guards circled by the box-car.

Beth's heart was soaring. Her family was together, and soon they'd all be safe.

….

"I'm afraid the tour will have to wait, ladies. I just came by to let you know. We had a series of mysterious fires last night. I'm sure you heard the commotion."

Beth shook her head, and so did Tara. "We slept like babies," Beth said, "First time we've had a real bed to sleep in for a long time." The leader of Terminus was a hard read. Garreth was stood in the doorway, his face smudged with ash, eyes bloodshot, a blank expression on his face. "Is everyone okay?" She asked.

Garreth nodded. "Everyone's fine. We're just trying to assess now, figure out what happened."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Tara asked.

Garreth shook his head. "No, but it might be safer if you two remain here until we rule out foul play. Mary will come by with some lunch for you soon."

Beth nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "We understand."

"I'm sorry to ask, but can I have the key Mary gave you?"

A chill ran up Beth's spine. He suspected them. "Sure," she said, gesturing at Tara who went to get the key.

"Mary will also take you over to the medical clinic for a visit with our doctor."

"Oh," Beth said, touching her stomach, "There's no need. I'm fine, really."

He smiled. "We would feel better if you were checked out, just to be sure."

"But…I…"

He held up a hand, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's a requirement if you want remain here in the community."

"What?" Beth said, hearing the ire in her voice and forcing herself to remain calm.

Tara came back in then, and handed him the key with the ribbon on it. "Tell Mary if you want to leave. I assure you the doctor's examination is only to promote the well-being of your child, and no harm will come to either of you if you go. A little prenatal vitamins wouldn't hurt, right? In the old world, you'd have regular check-ups in the first trimester. How is this any different? You do want your baby to be okay, don't you?" He smiled at her encouragingly, and she knew he was trying to disarm her defensiveness.

She played into it, and gave him a little acquiescing smile. "Your right, I just – it's just that this didn't happen in the right way if you know what I mean," she touched her belly, "and because of that I don't like being touched."

He nodded, as if he understood her meaning. "You have my personal guarantee that you will be treated with the utmost professionalism and kindness from our staff doctor. He's a good man, Beth."

She almost flinched at his use of her name. "Thank you, Garreth. Tara and I just want to thank you for helping us. If there's anything we can do to help, please just let us know."

"You got it," he said, slipping the key in his pocket. "I'll swing by to take you two over to the cafeteria for dinner tonight, and we can do that orientation interview. It's not that big of a deal, but it's also a requirement if you're staying."

"Sounds great. We'll see you then." Tara said.

When the door shut they both fell back on the couch. "He didn't seem too suspicious."

Beth shook her head, "I don't think so."

"Man, they're weird about you being pregnant."

"I know. I wish I hadn't said anything." Beth curled her legs up under her, and felt an ache go through for Daryl.

"You had to. If we'd let them think we knew what they were cooking…you know…then we'd be locked up in one of those box-cars too, or else on the menu."

Beth sighed. "I guess you're right, but I don't like their fascination with the baby."

"According to Gene, a cult like this one would want to repopulate. They probably don't plan on hurting you until after the babies born."

Beth nodded, unsure how to reply to that.

"Do you think they know?" Tara asked, fidgeting with her shirt sleeve.

Beth inhaled. "They suspect us for sure. Gene was right about them not writing the timing of our arrival and the fires as coincidence. But I don't think they know we left last night. For now, they're just containing what they now perceive as a possible threat. It makes sense. It's what Rick would have done."

Tara nodded. "Are you ready for round two?"

They'd stolen a watch from the memorial room since there were no clocks in the guest room. "How much longer."

"Ten minutes."

Beth grabbed a pillow and laid her head on it. "Wake me up in five?"

"How can you sleep at a time like this?"

Beth smiled into the pillow. "Sleeping for two. Now shush."

….

The explosion shook the floor. They were ready. Beth pulled the little remote out of her bag and hit the red button. Another explosion, this one further away. Tara did the same with her remote. Another explosion. "It's now or never," Beth shouted over the sound of debris falling nearby.

The two girls crawled through the front window and quickly ran around the back of the building and out of sight before a line of people ran by. "Go," Beth hissed, nudging Tara.

The girl ran in the direction they had agreed on, her knife drawn. Beth's own knife was clutched in her hand. "Where's the fourth?" She looked at her watch. The fourth explosion was twenty two seconds late.

A huge booming sound drowned out Tara's response and they saw a plume of smoke rise into the air close to the entrance of the station. "There, I see the bag," Tara yelled pointing at the fence closest to them. Beth chased after the brunette, careful to keep her eyes peeled for any sign of other people. They reached the bag, Tara grabbed onto it, and they ran over behind a stack of lumber, concealing them from sight. Tara bent down and unzipped the bag, retrieving Beth's katana first, handed it to her, and then pulled out their handguns, and her own assault rifle. They armed themselves and edged toward the corner of the lumber to make sure no one was around before they ran again.

They heard the unmistakable sound of automatic weapons being fired. Beth looked up and saw a sniper on the roof of one of the buildings. She pointed, and then signaled to Tara that they should go back the other way. As they turned, an explosion went off very close and they looked up to see the roof the sniper had been on sheared off, and smoking. "Never mind, this way."

Beth saw a sign on a building they ran past, and she drew up short, feeling Tara come to a stop beside her.

"Why are you stopping, we need to get to the box-cars."

"Wait," Beth said, pointing up at the cross. This was clearly the medical center. If Judith was alive, there was a chance she'd be in the hospital or clinic unless they'd pawned her off on one of the families living in the community. Something told Beth they wouldn't. They looked at Beth like she was a guinea pig. Maybe they would see Judith the same way, since the child clearly was born after the infection. "I want to look in here."

"That's not part of the plan," Tara whined.

She inhaled deeply, "Stay here, Tara. Let me know if anyone's coming."

"But.."

"Tara, I need you to do this for me, please."

The girl sighed, her shoulders sagging inward, and she gave her head a little shake, "Fine, but hurry."

Beth ripped open the door, and drew her blade. The outer office was innocent looking enough. A small lobby with three chairs, a coffee table, some magazines, and a bunch of filing cabinets. There was a woman sitting at it, dressed in a sweater with glasses on and her hair pulled into a tight bun, she was probably in her late sixties, a grandmotherly looking woman. She gasped as she looked up and saw Beth standing there, holding the katana. The woman's hand moved toward a walkie-talkie lying on the desk. Beth took a step forward. "Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you." Beth said, taking a step forward and placing the tip of her sword to the woman's wrist. "I have some questions."

The woman's eyes widened and she froze.

"Two weeks ago, you people captured a woman, a man, and a baby, didn't you?"

The woman swallowed hard, "I don't know what you're…."

Beth put a slight pressure on the katana, and they watched as it pressed harder into the woman's skin drawing a drop of blood. "Lie to me again, lady, and I'll put it all the way through."

"Okay, okay," the woman said weakly, obviously trying not to move, her eyes squinted tight in pain. "Yes, I don't remember the adults but, yes, they brought a young baby girl."

"Where is she?" Beth asked.

The woman's eyes flashed upward toward the ceiling. Beth saw, and understood that the woman was telling her upstairs. "Okay," she said, "I'm going to take my sword off you, but I'm going to keep it close enough to stab you with it if you make any wrong moves. Come on, get up." Beth drew the sword a foot away.

The woman was shaking. "Where are we going?"

"I think you know, Miss….I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"It's Edna."

"Get up, Edna."

The woman nodded, wiped her palms in her lap and stood. Beth followed her to a door with a picture of stairs on it. They went through, Beth keeping her hand wrapped around the woman's arm, and her sword inches from the woman's back as they moved up the two flights of stairs. "Who is going to be there when we open this door?" Beth asked, as they came to the second floor door.

"Just Dr. Delaware, and probably his nurse." The woman said.

"If you're lying to me, it's not going to turn out well for you Edna, because I'll be using you as my shield. No offense." _You flesh eating witch_, Beth thought silently.

"It should just be the two of them. Please…please don't hurt me."

"Open the door, Edna." Beth said, pressing the tip of the sword gently against the woman's lower back.

Edna pushed the door open and they walked into another lobby similar to the one on the first floor. There was a woman sitting behind the desk, and her eyes widened as she saw Beth holding sword to the receptionist's back. This woman was clearly a nurse, dressed in scrubs. It was appalling to Beth how these people put on the pretense of keeping up the old ways, yet did so while living off the flesh of other human beings. "I want Judith," Beth said, her voice shaking with rage. "I want the baby that you took two weeks ago, and I want her now." Beth told the nurse.

When the woman made no move to fulfill Beth's request, Beth narrowed her eyes at her. "You have exactly two seconds to stand up and take me to the baby, or I'm going to run Edna here through with my sword."

The woman flinched, and stood up, "You aren't going to get away with this," she huffed as she led the way down a hallway.

"We'll see about that."

The woman paused at the last doorway. "We would have never hurt her."

Beth narrowed her eyes. "Open the door."

The nurse sighed, and pushed the door open.

Baby Judith was standing up in a crib, her chubby hands clenching the top of it, her cheeks red, her eyes full of tears. Beth resisted the urge to fly across the room, and swoop the child up in her arms, especially when Judith saw her and reached her hands up to her. "Both of you get inside that closet and kneel down facing away from me." Beth said forcing the women with the tip of her sword behind a rocking chair, and into a closet.

"Please," Edna begged, "Why are you doing this?" She knelt down with the other woman.

"Put your hands on your legs in front of you, and shut up." Beth said, ignoring the woman's pleas. Judith was whining behind her.

"Don't hurt us." Edna begged.

Beth raised the sword. "You deserve to die." She told them through clenched teeth. She felt the red coming on, nothing like it had for the Governor, but it tasted the same – like flames sizzling on her tongue.

"For what?" Edna cried, "What have we done?"

"You eat people." Beth said, disgusted she even had to say it.

Edna started to sob, and the other woman looked over her shoulder at Beth. "We do what we have to do to survive, you little cunt." She turned back around.

Beth ignored the insult. "You can die now, or you can die later," She told them, "But I'm taking that baby, and I'm walking out of here…one way or another."

"Take her," the nurse said, "Our people won't let you escape."

Beth slammed the door shut. She wedged the rocking chair under the door handle, and went to retrieve Judith. It took her two minutes to stuff a bag full of baby stuff, and then she was back downstairs. As she went to open the door a male voice said. "Don't move."

Beth turned to see a tall man, probably in his fifties, with a mustache and a white doctor's jacket pointing a gun at her. Judith whimpered in Beth's arms. "Duck," Someone yelled, and Beth instinctually crouched down, covering the baby's head with her body. The front door burst open and a gun was fired. She saw a bloom of red blossom on the doctor's jacket, his eyes grew wide, and he clutched his chest and fell to the floor.

Then hot hands were around her, pulling her – and baby Judith – up and against a solid, leather clad chest. "Thought I told you to stick t' the plan."

"Sorry, something important came up," Beth said, and they both looked down at Judith.

"I'll say. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Daryl," Beth said, "Everyone is hear. I know where they all are."

"Well, lead the way," he said, releasing her. She hitched Judith up higher on her hip, and followed him out the door. Tara, Glenn, Abe, and Rosita were waiting outside for them.

"This way," Beth said, and led them toward the memorial room.

"Is everything ready?" Beth heard Tara ask.

Abraham laughed, "In thirty minutes this place is going to be like a mini Tunguska."

"This way," Beth led them through the door.

They weaved carefully through the giant shrine. Beth saw Daryl's eye narrow, and then turn to puzzlement, as he turned in place looking at the floor around him. "Fucking crazy." He said.

"If they weren't cannibals it would be kind of nice, actually," Tara commented, making everyone turn to her in surprise. She shrugged, "What? I'm just saying, it's like a memorial or something."

Daryl scoffed. "It's a fuckin' loony bin. Come on."

Dary lead the way through the next door. Beth told him what to look for and as soon as he confirmed the coast was clear, they all went through into the area with the stacked box-cars. People were screaming from inside, begging, pleading and banging on the door to be let out. They must have heard the explosions. "We're here," Beth yelled, "Carol, can you hear me? Get everyone back."

Abe and Daryl wrestled the handle out of the lock, and pulled the doors open. A group of huddled shapes were hunkered down at the back of the car. "We don't have much time," Beth shouted, "Come with us."

Carol had Tyreese propped over her shoulder, and a young skeletal girl with long blond hair, who Beth recognized as Mika stood up, putting her arm around Tyreese's waist, and helping him from the other side. Beth looked around for Lizzie, Mika's sister, but didn't see her in the car. Beth grabbed took an elderly woman's hand and helped her down off the edge of the box-car. "What about the ones up there?" Daryl asked.

"They're dead." Carol replied, matter of factly.

"You're sure about that?" Glenn countered, frowning up at the car.

Carol nodded. "We suspected it when they stopped moving, and trying to talk to us, then came the smell and shuffling, and we were certain. This morning one of the guards opened it up, and commented about letting the meat spoil. They shot a couple of them - the ones I'm assuming had turned - and left the rest to rot up there."

"What's wrong with him?" Daryl asked, cutting his eyes at Tyreese.

"He's sick, started as a cold, but then he got dehydrated. He'll be okay thanks to Beth bringing us that water last night."

"What?" Daryl said, turning on Beth.

She swallowed and gestured at Carol. "They were dying of thirst. It wasn't dangerous. I just snuck back over while they were still dealing with the fires."

Daryl shook his head, looked up at the sky, and his jaw muscles worked. She could tell he was furious, barely containing his anger at her for taking a risk. But he couldn't flip out now, and he obviously knew that. Beth moved Judith to her other hip, and helped the last woman off the box-car. Six people in all, included Carol, Mika and Tyreese. "Where's your sister?" Beth asked Mika, bending down to give the little girl a hug.

Mika looked up at Carol, who gave Beth a look. "We'll talk about that later." Carol said.

"All right, stay behind us," Daryl said, indicating that Beth should take her place beside him and lead the way to the other box-car. So far, they hadn't had any company, and Beth felt a little anxious about that. They should have run into someone in this part of the compound. She was sure _everyone _wasn't dealing with the explosions, and she knew they would have perimeter guards to deal with either way.

She pointed at the lone car, and they heard something pounding inside of it. "Stand back," Daryl yelled, taking the stairs up to the door two a time. Abe and Glenn fell back keeping watch for guards or snipers. Several plumes of charcoal grey smoke could be seen rising above the opposite side of the station.

Rick stepped out first, and they were surprised to see that he was still armed, along with Michonne, Carl, Bob, Sasha, and Maggie. Rick ran down the flight of stairs and opened his arms for Judith. Beth handed the sleepy baby over, and watched as Rick and Carl reunited with her. She turned back to the box-car and saw Michonne coming out, raising an eyebrow at the katana Beth had slung across her back. There was no time to explain as they all watched the sweetest reunion ever. Maggie saw Glenn, Glenn saw Maggie and she threw herself into his arms, and then they were kissing, and hugging and whispering to each other.

Beth found Daryl's eyes over the group of people. He nodded, understanding her silent message. "Save the reunion for later, people." He said, "We got t' leave. Now."

Rick turned his attention to Daryl. "I planted some guns that way." He pointed at the fence. "We can't let these bastards get anyone else. We've got to take them out now."

"Done." Daryl said, "The place is wired with explosives. Why we need to get the fuck out of here."

Rick gave Daryl a reverent, wide-eyed look. He looked skeptically at the others that were with them. Daryl introduced Abe, Rosita and Tara.

Beth felt Maggie's arm slide around her shoulder. "You got some muscles, kid." She said, and she gave Beth's sword a speculative glance.

"This way," Daryl said, "The strong ones help the others. The fence is cut over there," he lifted his crossbow to point at the fence. "Time t' stop and get your guns, Rick, but we got t' move fast."

"We sure we got all the innocents out?" Rick asked, handing Judith to Carl. Beth was relieved. She loved holding the baby, feeling Judith's wispy hair, and soft skin next to her throat, but carrying the baby restricted her movement, and she might need her hands free, if a fight or walkers came along.

They followed Daryl as a group, sticking to the shadows until they reached the fence. There were shouts from the compound behind them, and Beth looked back over her shoulder to see men running their way. "Get to the damn fence. Now." She yelled. She wasn't going to lose anyone else.

The sick, old and young went through first, while the others got into position to take out their pursuers if need be. Beth squinted, and saw the first of the men appear underneath the street lamp about forty feet away from her. She touched Daryl's shoulder and pointed at the man. Daryl nodded and nudged Abe who lifted his gun and shot the guy in the chest. "Come on Beth," she heard Maggie yell, but Carol, Tyreese, and Mika, along with Carl and Judith, still weren't through. Rosita was holding the fence open so people could duck under.

"Go ahead," Beth told her sister, "I'll be right behind you."

Maggie frowned, but she took the other side of Tyreese, and helped Carol get him through the hole in the fence. Carl and Judith went next, followed by Sasha and Bob with Mika between them. Abe fired another shot, bringing her attention back to the men running toward them. She heard Abe call out. "We have the advantage you sick motherfuckers, so I wouldn't come any closer. Just cut your losses while you can and turn around."

A man shouted back, and Beth thought she recognized Garreth's voice. "We just want the pregnant one. If you want to get away clean, give us to her, and we'll call it even."

Beth felt Daryl tense beside her. "You told 'em?"

"Had to," Beth said, "I'll tell ya about it later."

Abraham looked to them for an answer. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the others creeping away from the fence. "Time to go," she whispered, touching Daryl's arm.

He looked like he wanted to hunt down and mutilate every one of the Terminus men. "Don't worry, they'll get what's coming to 'em," Abe said, also noticing the look of rage in Daryl's eyes. "Let's get out of here, partner."

Daryl nodded, lowering his weapon, took Beth's hand and led her through the rip in the fence, followed by Abe, Glenn and Rosita. "They'll try to follow us." Daryl said, as the group made their way to where Rick was kneeling on the ground digging, with Michonne's help.

"I got it," Abe said, pulling Rosi along with him. "We'll meet you at the truck."

Beth felt Maggie's eyes on her. There was the sound of groans coming from the way they had to go to get to the truck. "Okay," Daryl said, kneeling down to help Rick pull the duffel bag out of the earth. "Here's how it's gonna go. Weak, old, and young in the middle, fighters on the outside. The freaks are gonna be comin' in full force with the fires and explosions.

Rick nodded, checking the chamber of his gun. "We move as a unit. Stay tight."

Rick handed the guns out to everyone. Carl handed the baby to Carol, and Bob and Sasha volunteered to help Tyreese, though he was walking better on his own.

Daryl met Beth's eyes. His were still cold with rage. If it wasn't for the rest of the group, and the need to get them safely back through walker-territory to the truck, Beth felt pretty certain Daryl would be back inside the fences going all psychopathic on the Terminus members, after their mention of her. If she were to tell him how they looked at her when they realized she was pregnant, he would probably not be able to stop himself. "It's okay, I'm fine." She told him.

He nodded and took a deep breath. "Beth and I will lead the way, stay in formation behind us." He told the others.

"Why Beth?" Maggie said, frowning.

Daryl ignored Maggie, and turning to Rick and Michonne. "You take up the rear."

There was a shot fired from the direction they'd escaped from, meaning Abe and Rosi were trying to tell them to hurry. Beth shrugged her shoulders at Maggie's scrutinizing look, and took her place at the front of the group with Daryl.

She pulled the sword out, ignoring the surprised, and questioning, glances she was getting from everyone but Daryl. This wasn't the time or the place to explain her transformation. They moved through the woods, bobbing and weaving between trees. Daryl and Beth taking care of any walkers in front of them, and the others keeping the walkers on the sides and back at bay. Daryl was right, the woods were filling with the undead. Soon it would be a herd. Beth hoped some of them got into the compound before the bombs went off.

After about ten minutes of walking downhill, they heard a whistle over their shoulders, and Abe and Rosi appeared behind them. Rosi's left arm was cradled against her stomach and she was bleeding. Beth heard Abraham ask her if she wanted him to carry her, and she heard Rosita laugh. "Took care of the ones trying to give chase," Abe told Daryl as they reached the front of the group.

The truck came into view. There were several walkers around it, clawing at the doors, probably thinking there was a treat inside. Daryl held up his hand. "Wait here," he told the others, but he nodded at Beth to join him.

She was almost as good at moving through the brush as quietly as him now, and they were able to sneak up on the walkers unawares. "I'll take the one by the back." She told him.

He gave her a stiff nod, and lifted his bow at the two walkers clawing at the door. "Wait for me to check the other side," he told her as she twirled the katana in her hand, and approached her target.

The monster turned toward her just as she got close. He reached, giving a guttural moan, and she impaled his skull with her blade. She waited as Daryl disposed of the other two and retrieved his bolts, then they moved in unison around to the other side of the truck. "It's clean, let's get everyone loaded up."

….

It took five minutes to get everyone in the truck. It was crowded, but they all fit. She and Daryl were sitting next to each other, down in the truck bed, Rick was on Daryl's other side, with Michonne and Carl, playing with Judith, and Maggie was on Beth's other side with Glenn's hand resting on her thigh. "You got a safe place?" Rick asked, over the truck engine firing up.

Daryl nodded. "Remember that silo I told you about?" Beth could feel his body vibrating next to her as he spoke. It took everything she had not to climb in his lap and kiss him full on, in front of everyone. They were safe, they saved their family, killed the Governor, and they were going home.

The explosion going off behind them lit up the pre-dawn sky. One large explosion, followed by a series of smaller ones. Smoke rose above the tree line, as they turned to watch fires blazing. They were too far away to hear screams or see the destruction, but Beth could imagine what the train station would be like now. Daryl and Glenn had cut the brake lines on all of the vehicles while the fires were burning at the beginning, so if anyone got away it was going to be on foot. If anyone got away, they wouldn't stand much chance at escaping with the herd of walkers drawn in by the sounds and smells.

A fraction of a bible verse swam through Beth's mind, and she repeated the words out-loud, almost without realizing it.

"…_And throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."_

Daryl turned to her, and reached up cupping her face. "I love you, beautiful." He said, loud enough for everyone to hear. His expression was tender, and full of adoration. She beamed back up at him.

"We keep each other safe, Mr. Dixon," she said, turning her face a little to place several soft kisses in the palm of his giant, rough hand.

"Always, Mrs. Dixon," he replied, leaning in to kiss her.

….

**A/N: **Well thanks for reading guys! I was going to end it at this chapter, but I have some great ideas for where the story could go from here, even more into the AU, but the characters will stay canon. Didn't realize how hard it was going to be to write Rick, and have no idea how to capture Michonne's personality – but I'm going to try.

If you liked the story, please jot down a review. I would love to hear your feedback


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

**Thank you **rubiredslippers for taking the time to beta read chapter eleven!

A/N: Okay, trying here guys, and this was hard after days of trying to ascertain where to go next with this. I can think of no clever quotes to add to this hodgepodge of something that I try to give you as a gift of wonderfulness. Just hope you enjoy the light stuff.

….

Chapter Eleven

"Wait a second," Maggie said, and Beth looked up to see that everyone – within hearing range – was looking at them. "What did you just call each other?"

"A lot's changed since the prison." Daryl commented. Beth blushed and glanced at her sister. Glenn was squeezing Maggie's hand, his forehead creased with worry.

Maggie went to stand up, but Glenn pulled her back down. "What are you saying, Daryl?" Maggie asked, her voice raising an octave.

"Saying I married your sister."

Maggie made a choking sound. Beth reached over and took her sister's other hand. "There was no ceremony." She held out her hand, displaying the ring, "He made me this."

Maggie looked down at the ring, her eyes wide, her breaths coming fast. "You're twice her fucking age, you asshole." Maggie screamed.

Beth felt Daryl tense beside her. "Mags," Beth said, "remember how furious daddy was at you for falling in love with Glenn?"

Maggie, looking on the verge of hyperventilation, nodded, and squeezed Beth hand. "Course" she admitted, "Course I do."

"But daddy changed his mind, didn't he?"

Maggie nodded.

"He changed his mind because that stuff doesn't matter anymore."

Maggie sighed, looking defeated. Then her head shot up. "You're not a virgin anymore?"

Beth felt her face fill with heat as everyone tried to avoid looking at her. She felt a big, hot hand wrap around her little one.

"That's no one's business but my own." She mumbled.

She felt Maggie trembling beside her. Perhaps the news was too much for her sister, especially after being locked up in Terminus, and all the excitement of the day. "We will be talking about this later. And how in the world did you learn how to use a samurai sword?"

Beth just smiled. There was a lot they would need to discuss, including the fact that Maggie was going to be an aunt. Beth decided to save that little tidbit for the safety and privacy of the silo.

….

Everyone was assigned a living space. It was crowded, but they would make do. Beth gave up her big room to Rick, Carl, and Judith. It appeared that Michonne planned to share the room with them as well, and Beth couldn't help smiling at that. Rick and Michonne weren't the only new couple. Sasha and Bob seemed pretty friendly with each other, and Carol and Tyreese were openly sharing a room.

Everyone else was tucked away, and asleep, except for Maggie, Glenn, Daryl and Beth who sat in the common area. "So I want to know everything….e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g." Maggie said, dragging the last word out.

"I don't think you want to know_ everything_." Daryl told her, reaching his arm around Beth who snuggled in next to him.

Maggie glared, and Beth squeezed his thigh, letting him know she wanted him to take it easy on Maggie. "How could you let this happen?" She asked, her question was obviously pointed at Daryl, as if Beth had had no say in the matter. "She's just a child."

Beth narrowed her eyes at her sister. "I am not a child."

Maggie's eyes widened. "You're barely nineteen."

"Making me an adult" Beth corrected.

"I hate to tell you this, honey, but your sister's changed." Glenn added, looking at little rebuffed by the glare Maggie shot him.

"Am I the only one still sane around here?" Maggie yelled.

"Shhh," Daryl said, "people are tryin' to sleep."

"Don't shush me, Daryl, don't you fuckin' shush me."

"Honey," Glenn said, putting a hand on Maggie's thigh, "calm down."

Maggie bolted out of the chair. "This is bullshit. If daddy were here, he'd be on my side."

"There aint any sides, Maggie," Beth said, "And daddy's dead."

Maggie froze, and swallowed hard, tears coming to her eyes. "I know," she whispered, "I know he's dead, and everything is a mess now."

"How you figure that?" Daryl asked, "You're alive. Got your husband, and your sister, and you're in a safe place. Seems everything is pretty damn good to me."

Maggie sobbed, and Beth instantly rose, going to her sister and pulling her down in a loveseat with her. "Maggie," Beth whispered, "Your overreacting. I'm fine. I love Daryl, and he loves me. Aint that all matters in the end?"

Maggie sniffed and wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve. "I was supposed to keep you safe. Daddy woulda wanted me to protect you."

"She don't need no godamm protection. She's a fuckin' soldier, like the rest of us, now. Had to be. You saw. Girl can take care of herself." Daryl looked down at his fingers, inspecting them, avoiding Maggie's astonished glare.

"What? She killed a few walkers with her toy sword, and now she's a fuckin' soldier, Daryl?"

"She killed the Governor, Maggie, and if it wasn't for Beth we couldn't have saved you, and everyone else, from Terminus." Glenn said softly.

Maggie's eyes widened, and she clutched at Beth's shoulders. "You did what?"

"I killed him. The Governor's dead." Beth caught Daryl looking at her, watching her every movement, and her cheeks filled with heat under his intense inspection.

"And that aint no toy sword either," Daryl drawled, sounded mildly irritated, "It's a katana, same as Michonne's. If you were paying attention earlier you would have seen she's as good as Michonne. Better actually, 'cause she's faster, and a little more ruthless."

"How?" Maggie said, after thirty seconds of appalled silence. "How did this happen?"

Beth swallowed. She knew it was time she told them all the story of her rage. She did her best to describe the fits, and the insatiable drive to hunt down and terminate the man who butchered their father. Maggie cried as Beth expressed the guilt she felt over prioritizing killing the Governor over everything else. "Even my own child." She added, in a whisper.

"Child?" Maggie asked, accepting a tissue from Glenn.

Beth nodded, and touched her stomach, sensing Daryl's eyes on her hands. "We're going to have a baby."

Maggie dropped her hands in her lap, and sat stone still, without saying a word. "You…little… fucking…slut." Maggie said, drawing out the words, her voice shaking with rage.

"What the fuck did you just call her?" Daryl popped out of his seat. Beth held out a hand to him.

"Maggie," she tried to touch her sister's shoulder, but Maggie avoided her touch like the plague, standing up and shaking from head to toe, her fists turning white at her sides. Beth felt a lump forming in her throat.

"You fuckin' heard me, Daryl. Now what are'ya gonna do about it?" Maggie said, jolting out of her chair as well.

"Best control your wife." Daryl told Glenn, his face contorted with rage.

Glenn stood up and took Maggie's hand. "She's exhausted. We all need to get some sleep. Let's finish this discussion in the morning."

Maggie was so livid with rage that her steps seemed robotic almost, as Glenn took her hand and wrapped his arm tenderly around her waist, pushing her toward the hallway. Beth watched the couple walk all the way to the room they were sharing. As soon as the door shut behind them, she stood up and wrapped her arms around Daryl's waist, burying her head in his jacket. He stood stiff for another couple seconds, before she heard him sigh, and she felt his big arms enfold her, pulling her in closer. "He's right, she's just tired," Beth mumbled into his chest, "She'll be better in the morning."

"You aint a slut."

She looked up at him, and he touched her face with his finger, holding her against gravity with his other arm. "I know that, and Maggie does too, she's just pissed."

"Needs to have some respect."

"Be patient with her," she looked up at him, cupping his scruffy cheek with her hand, "Please. She'll come around. Aint the first time she's been this mad at me. She caught one of her boyfriend's trying to kiss me when I was fourteen. She called me worse things then."

He raised an eyebrow, "How's that your fault?"

"Exactly," Beth said. Maggie's always been a hothead. She just needs time, and we're going to have to be patient, all right?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "So what's this boy's name, the one that tried t' kiss ya."

She shrugged, frowning. Then she looked up and laughed, squeezing her arms around him. "Why ya gonna go kick his ass."

"Maybe. Was thinkin' about it?" He said, giving her a little smile.

"Well I can say with complete honesty that I don't remember."

"Lucky for him." Daryl said. He scooped her hair into a pony tail and gently tugged her head back, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

She'd missed him holding her like this, making her feel like she was the safest person to survive the end of the world. She'd missed his warmth, his scent, his eyes, his gruff manner, and now he was here, holding and kissing her, and all she wanted to do was take him to bed. "I need a shower."

Daryl nodded. "Should still be some hot water in the pipes."

"Ya wanna join me?" She teased, leaning back a little, looking up and giving him an ornery look, touching the lapel of his jacket with her tiny hand.

He gave her a little smirk, and pushed a stray curl out of her face. "Does a bear shit in the woods?"

She laughed, "Well, come on then." Beth guided him toward the showers.

….

Daryl was growing a beard. Nothing too long, in fact he kept it trimmed pretty close to his face, but it was more facial hair than Beth had ever seen on him. It seemed it was a trend. All the men, except for Glenn and Eugene, were growing them. Beth figured it was because it kept their faces insulated on prolonged hunting trips. His hair was getting long too, almost touching his shoulders, and his bangs had grown halfway down his face. She supposed she ought to offer to give him a trim, but she secretly liked his hair a little long. It gave him a softer, gentler look that was a rarity for the walker-killer.

Two months after the attack on Terminus, and there was still plenty of food to go around, but everyone craved fresh meat. This gave some of them an excuse to get out of the silo. Beth herself was starting to feel a little stir crazy. She watched Daryl dressing, still utterly fascinated with his body. "I'm coming with you today." She told him, sliding languidly out of their little twin bed, and going over to the dresser to get some clothes out.

"Best layer. Cold as a witch's tit out there."

She started with thermal underwear, and a pair of thick wool socks. "How's the baby blanket comin' along?" Daryl asked, closing the distance between them, and touching her stomach with both hands. In private, he was fascinated with her stomach, especially now that her baby bump was really starting to show.

Beth blushed at the mention of the quilt she was making. "Not so great actually. I should just let Carol do it."

He gave his head a little disapproving shake. "Don' give up, girl."

"I'm not, at least not yet. It's just apparently I'm better with a sword, than I am with a crochet needle. Who'd of thought?"

He gave a low chuckle, and leaned in planting a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. The familiar feeling of heat - generated from his proximity – vibrated through her. "Mmmm," she said, "Maybe we should just stay in today, like not leave the room at all."

Daryl started playing with her hair, and looked at her meditatively, as if he was considering her offer. "Tempting."

She nodded. "It's been at least two weeks since we made them all think we were dead in here."

"That was supposed to be one day, ended up bein' four."

She smiled gleefully. "Exactly."

He sighed. They were both still struggling with the lack of privacy in the silo. The place was at max capacity until they finished the next level down, where they were setting up more living quarters. "Can't, angel." He said, curling her hair around his hands. "Got t' take advantage of the walker's freezing while we can. Pickin's are easy out there right now. Need t' store as much meat as we can before they get lively again. Plus genius-boy's got errands for us."

Beth looped her fingers through the belt loops on his pants and gave a wistful sigh. "I understand, duty calls and all."

"And the two of you need protein."

She smiled. Rick was more than content to hand over the responsibility of running the group to Daryl. Between Glenn, Abe, Rosita, Carol, Sasha, and Tyreese, they had themselves a new council, with Daryl as the leader. Both Maggie, Beth and Michonne, had opted out of being on the council. Strangely, Maggie has resisted having anything to do with decision making, and hadn't left the silo since that night they first arrived from Terminus. Michonne and Beth were spending their days training together, Michonne teaching Beth everything she knew about the katana, and Beth talking to her about the things Judith loved. They'd never formally agreed on the trade-off of services, but Beth had noticed Michonne struggling to be more motherly to Judith. She knew now that Michonne had once had a baby of her own, a son, but it was clear from her awkwardness with Judy, that she wasn't sure what to do with the girl.

Rick and Michonne had never really defined their relationship to the group, and Michonne spent more time with Carl, than she did with Rick, but Beth had accidentally walked in on them one night, so she - at least - knew what was going on between them, and she was happy for them. Rick deserved to be happy, after losing Lori the way he had, and Carl needed a woman around to keep him from growing too rough around the edges, even if Michonne wasn't too much of the matriarchal type, they were good for each other.

"Okay, fearless leader," she acquiesced, buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt. "But only if we stop at the department store. I want to do a little baby shopping."

He scowled a little, but nodded his head. When he spoke his voice had that rumbling effect that resonated down to her toes. "You best finish gettin' dressed, wife, 'fore I change my mind."

She laughed, peeled herself reluctantly away from him, and fished the rest of her clothes out of her dresser.

….

They stopped in the common room for a little breakfast before meeting Rick, Carl and Michonne topside for the run. Abraham and Eugene were alone in the common room discussing plans for the upcoming trip to DC. As soon as the thaw came a bunch of the group had agreed to make the trip with them. Glenn had proposed the trip south for summer so they had until spring to get to Washington DC and back. The details for both trips were still being ironed out, but Daryl and Beth both intended to keep their promise to Abe, and help him escort Gene safely to DC. They hadn't told anyone else they were going, yet, because Beth didn't think Maggie would take the news very well. Her stubborn sister was just recently starting to get used to the idea of Beth and Daryl being together.

Going to DC meant traveling to the southern coast with the rest of the group while she was in her last trimester of pregnancy. It wasn't Daryl's favorite idea, and he'd been arguing with the council about their departure date since the decision was made to migrate south. Daryl wanted to wait until after the baby was born, specifically he wanted to wait until the following spring to head south.

"Morning" Abe told them as they came in.

Eugene looked up and smiled at them. He started talking to Daryl about some parts he needed to complete the solar panel system they were planning to install. Abe pointed at the kitchen, "There's oatmeal with honey," he said quietly so as not to interrupt the others conversation. Beth winked her thanks to him, and padded into the kitchen. Sure enough there was a giant pot of oatmeal steaming on the stove. Beth filled two bowls, and was heading back to the common room, when Carol came in with a laundry basket full of dry clothes.

"Are they going into town today?" She asked, depositing the laundry on one of the barstools.

Beth nodded, "Yeah, we are."

"Oh, you're going on this one."

"Think so. Need to stretch my legs a bit."

"Good," Carol said, glancing around the room, "Can you stop by the pharmacy, Beth, and see if you can get me some of this." She pulled a tiny piece of paper out of her jeans pocket, and handed it to Beth.

"Prozac," Beth said, reading the note, "For what?"

Carol inhaled and crossed her arms over her chest. "For Mika."

"Really?" Beth said, "Is she having problems?"

Carol cut her eyes over to the three men, then looked back at Beth. She shrugged, "Nothing incredibly abnormal. She's grieving over her sister."

They'd all heard the story about how they'd lost Lizzie. After the prison, when Carol met up with Tyreese and the girls, the adult's began to see that the older girl suffered from the delusion that walkers innocently retained a part of their former selves. She'd been caught trying to play with walkers, and she was the one who had been feeding them mice, back at the prison. The last straw had been when Lizzie tried to stab Mika in the stomach to prove that her sister would still be the same after she turned. Carol had cried when she admitted to the group that they had to put Lizzie down, because there was no way to know if the girl was going to try and slit their throats in the middle of the night, and she couldn't be trusted around Judith or Mika. Beth was horrified by what Carol had done, and she didn't think she could have ever done something like that herself, but there were a lot of things she didn't used to think she would ever do, including murdering a fellow human being. "Do you think you should talk to the council about this?" Beth asked, holding the piece of paper out.

Carol frowned. "I'm Mika's guardian, Beth. Her father asked me to look after those girls."

"I know, I know," Beth said, not intending to offend the older woman. "It's just… are you sure this is going to help?"

"She needs something," Carol said, "I'm open to other ideas, if you have any."

Beth bit her lip, and transferred the hot bowls of oatmeal to the counter. "You've tried talking to her."

Carol nodded, biting her lip. "Honestly, I'm at my wits end with talking. Doesn't seem to help. This is a last resort." She indicated the paper in her hand.

"Maybe…maybe _I_ could try talking to her."

Carol looked thoughtful for a moment, and then smiled. "That might help, actually."

"I always told my big sister stuff I would have never have told my mama," Beth admitted, "not that I'm Mika's big sister, but you know what I'm saying." She gave a little shrug.

"It's worth a try. Lord knows I'd rather not have to medicate the child."

"Okay," Beth said, "I'll try to find the Prozac just in case but when I get back from the run I'll spend some quality time with her, see if I can help."

Carol held out a hand, gently letting it fall on Beth's right shoulder. "You really have become a woman. Sure is amazing remembering that little scrawny, doe-eyed, girl you were when I first met you. Your father would be proud of you, Beth." Carol removed her hand and crossed her arms. "He'd be proud of the choices you've made, and of the contribution you're making to this family now. I hope you know that."

Beth gave Carol a weak smile. She tried not to think about what her daddy would think if he was still alive, because she could never really convince herself that he would be okay with the person she had become. "Thanks, Carol. That's awfully sweet of you to say. Better get breakfast down. Think Rick's bunch is already topside."

"They are. Left early, I know 'cause he woke Tyreese and I up to drop of Judith."

"She doing good this morning?"

Carol nodded with a smile, picking the laundry basket back up. "Poor things teething. You'll see. It's yours and Daryl's day tomorrow." Beth couldn't wait. Spending time just the three of them had become a sort cathartic ritual. Watching her husband with the little girl made Beth giddy. Even when Judith was fussy – especially when she was – Daryl had a way with her.

They women parted, and Beth carried the now lukewarm bowls of oatmeal to the common room, handing Daryl his where he was hovering over a diagram Eugene had drawn. "That one'll be the hardest t' find," Daryl was telling Eugene as he pointed at a part sketched on Gene's notebook. Their eyes met briefly as he accepted the bowl from her.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can use as a substitute. For the entire system to function properly, we must have that part."

Daryl pondered over the papers as he devoured his oatmeal. When he was finished, he nodded at Abe and Gene. "Think I know a place that hasn't been ripped up yet. May have some of this shit. Aint far from where we're headin.' I'll check it out. See what we can round up."

The other two nodded. Beth and Daryl said their goodbyes, and stopped at the closet on their way out to get their heavy coats, gloves, and scarves on. On the way up Beth told him about her conversation with Carol regarding Mika.

"Kids had a fucked up life long as she can remember. Course she's fuckin' troubled. Aint sayin' I agree with dopin' her up though."

"Me either," Beth agreed, "I told Carol I'd try talking to her, but I'm still gonna see about getting something at the pharmacy, as a plan B."

Daryl nodded, and pushed open the second level door. The daylight temporarily blinded them, and they both covered their eyes with their forearms. "Goddam, I missed fresh air." Daryl said, inhaling deeply. Beth rolled her eyes. Daryl had been out two days ago. She, on the other hand, had been underground for going on two weeks.

They saw a plume of smoke through the dilapidated outer wall of the surface building. Rick's truck was parked nearby. They made their way outside the building, snow crunching underfeet, and joined the others. Michonne and Carl were swinging a twice-dead corpse – Michonne holding the ankles, and Carl handling the wrists – onto the top of a smoking pile of bodies. "Had a small build up since you were out last. Nothing to worry about," Rick said, as he tossed a bag of garbage they'd hauled up from downstairs into the pile.

Rick was about thirty pounds lighter than he'd been back at the prison. He was sporting a full beard that dipped at least two inches off the bottom of his chin, and his hair was grown long, wavy and wild. He wasn't wearing a stocking cap like the rest of them, and steam was coming up off his curls. "Beth, you comin' along t'day?" He asked, nodding at her.

"Thought it was about time I got out," she said, winking at Carl who stepped up beside his father, and smiled at her.

Carl – unlike his father – had gained weight, filling out in the arms and chest much more these days. He was still lanky, but he definitely had pumped up a little since coming to the silo. "Yeah, now this run is actually going to be fun." Carl added, jabbing Michonne in the ribs.

"What are you trying to say, kid? Am I boring you?"

Carl held out his hand and pinched about an inch of air between his index and thumb finger, squinting at Michonne with a shit eating grin on his face. "Shut up," she said shoving him and little. He put his arms up defensively and laughed. They plotted together over to Rick's truck.

Rick watched them, a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips, his hands on his waist. "Are you following or riding along?"

"Pfft. Wouldn't catch me riding bitch in that stupid excuse for a vehicle when I could be driving The Beast. Nah, we'll follow ya, brother."

Rick laughed. "Good point. Course, that stupid excuse for a vehicle has snow chains on the tires."

Daryl gave a couple little nods, then pointed at The Beast. "Man that is a nineteen-seventy Bronco. Solid piece of machinery. Can go about anywhere, in just about any condition. Snow chains are for pussy cars."

Rick looked back at the truck Daryl had recently acquired, and had been spending day's topside tinkering with. The big, black, boxy giant was quite daunting compared to Rick's newly acquired silver Nissan SUV. "All right, all right, you win." Rick said, chuckling as he turned away to get into his car.

"I'm surprised you didn't end up with another Harley," Beth said, letting Daryl help her up into the Beast's passenger seat.

He swung around to the other side, and jumped up into the driver's seat. "After her," he nodded to Beth's belly, "We'll get a bike."

She smiled over at him. "You're going to be such an amazing daddy." She told him, reaching across the expanse between them to push his long bangs out of his eyes. "That's the only thing I've done right by her so far."

He shook his head, starting the engine, and following Rick down the drive toward the gate. "Beth. Don't let me ever hear ya say that again. Gave us peace, didn't you? Gave her a chance to survive in a world where chances are hard t' come by. She's lucky you're her mama."

Beth felt a lump growing in her throat. Her eyes started to water. She felt it was time to change the subject to something lighter. The last thing she wanted was to have Daryl regret bringing her along. "Could be a boy, ya know." She said, after a minute of silence had gone by.

He looked over at her, then back at the road. "Don' matter. Long as both of you make it through okay."

"I know," she said teasingly, "but if you could choose. Would you rather have a son or a daughter?"

He shrugged, and she noticed him biting on his bottom lip a little. "Said it don' matter."

"Daryl, I know what ya said."

"Why the fuck ya keep naggin' then woman?"

She laughed. "Because it's important to me."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you after you tell me?"

He inhaled, gave his head a little irritated shake, and gripped the steering wheel harder. "Guess I'd rather have a girl."

"Really?"

He looked over at her, "Why? Was that the wrong answer?"

"Aint no wrong answer, I was just curious."

He groaned. "Now you tell me."

"Tell ya what?"

"Beth…"

She giggled. "Sorry. But Daryl, why a girl?"

"Oh no you don't. Your turn."

She feigned a pout. "Fine. It's important to me because I keep having this dream, and in the dream the baby is a boy."

Daryl's eyes grew wide, and he glanced over at her. The edges of his lips were turning up a bit, in a small smile. "You dream about her?"

"Him." She corrected.

"Him. You're having dreams about our baby?"

She nodded, unable to resist the urge to cup her little baby bump with both hands. "Tell me about them."

"Nuh-uh. First you tell me why you'd rather have a girl."

He adjusted uncomfortably, following Rick's Nissan onto the main road that would take them into the nearest town. He looked over at her and saw she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. He sighed. "Cause a son would be more like me, and a girl – well she'd be like you."

Beth swallowed. She hadn't expected him to say that. "So?" She asked, "What's wrong with him being like you? Aint nothin' wrong with that, from where I'm sitting."

He glanced over at her, "Yeah but you're biased."

She couldn't argue with that. "Daryl…" she started, but he put up a hand, stopping her.

"Tell me about these dreams. I want details." When she hesitated, he made an urgent gesture with his hand and teased, "Come on. Out with it, Mrs. Dixon."

….

He was probably no more than three or four years old, running and laughing in a tall field of purple flowers. His hair was shoulder length and the same rich brown as his father's, except the child's hair had curls at the base. He had chubby little cheeks, and pastel blue eyes, like hers. In the dream, the sun was always setting, throwing off beautiful pink, purple and orange shades on the horizon, just above the tree tops. The child was chasing a lightning bug, laughing, bounding gleefully through the grass, and wildflowers, that were almost as tall as him. He seemed perfectly at ease, but she knew better as every minute or two he would look over her way, ensuring she was still standing their watching him, protecting him. She laughed when he caught the lightning bug, then immediately set it free again, throwing it up into the air with both chubby arms. He looked over at her and smiled. His lips formed the word, "mama" and then he was running in the opposite direction, vanishing into the brush. Every time she searched frantically for him after the disappearing act, and each time she would wake up in a cold sweat, feeling as if a part of her own soul had been ripped away.

….

"That aint no dream. That's a godamm nightmare, Beth." Daryl asserted, parking The Beast behind Rick's Nissan in front of the general store in the small town they'd arrived at. He cut the engine, and they produced their weapons, noting the presence of several walkers.

She shrugged, "Ya wanted to hear about it."

"And you're sure it was a little boy, huh?"

"Positive. He had my eyes and your looks."

He shook his head, opening his door, and descending from the driver's seat of The Beast. "Hold up, I'll come around." He said, seeing her reach for her door handle. She watched in the side mirror as he and Rick took out a couple walkers approaching the vehicle from behind, then Daryl materialized at her door, opening it, and letting her slide down into his arms.

He held her like that for a minute, breathing hard from killing walkers. "Won't ever let anything happen to her, or him. Know that, don' ya, Bethie?" He asked, cupping her face in his big hands, his ink blue eyes locking in on hers.

She smiled at his usage of her old pet name. "Course I know that." She reassured him, realizing they had an audience, unable to stop the blush from rising to her cheeks. "Come on. Let's get this over with. Towns creep me out."

They cleared the general store, and filled a bag with stuff they could use that hadn't been rifled through or gone bad. In the end they had a bag full of toiletries, batteries, electronic devices, DVD's for the kids, a bunch of soppy romance books, and probably a twenty bottles of various medicines and vitamins.

"Where to next?" Rick asked, pointing his question at Daryl.

Daryl checked out the front window, and turned back to face them. "I'd like t' hit that manufacturing plant. See if I can get some of the stuff of genius-boy's list – for the solar panels."

"I need to go to the pharmacy," Beth reminded him.

Rick nodded, tucking his gun back into the holster. "We could split up. Daryl and I can hit the plant, while the three of you check out the rest of the town, pick up anything you think we could use."

Daryl looked out the window again, and gave a short nod. "We meet back here in two hours. Need t' get some fuckin' huntin' in before it gets too late."

….

In the department store, Beth found a shelf of untouched baby dolls. She thought of Mika, and a surge of pity went through her. When Beth was Mika's age, she loved playing with her dolls. Maggie was a tomboy, she'd be running around the fields, pretending to shoot at stuff with her cap gun, while Maggie dressed and undressed her dolls, and pushed them around in the little pink stroller that was a Christmas present from Aunt Nell. Beth would sit her dolls down for elaborate tea parties, and she'd ramble on to them, talking about everything under the sun. She gave those dolls all her little secrets, because they were like her friends, her confidants, and they could be entirely trusted not to spill the beans to anyone.

Beth decided to take one of the dolls to Mika. Maybe there was still a chance to preserve a small amount of the girl's innocence. She chose a simple baby doll with a wisp of blond curls on top, and a small flowery blanket. There was a little white plastic bottle attached to the dolls wrist. Beth sat the doll box in her cart, and moved on to the next aisle. A thrill went through her. It was the baby section. She spent the next ten minutes, with Carl and Michonne's help, filling the cart with bottles, diapers, onesies, booties, hats and other various clothing items.

Carl disappeared momentarily and returned, grinning, with a large box clutched in both hands. "I see you're back at it, again." Michonne pointed out, smiling back at him.

Beth looked at the box. The picture on the outside was of a basinet. Carl laughed, "Figure Judith will grow out of her crib, 'bout the time your baby grows out of this." He said.

Beth went over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was only an inch or two shorter than her now, and she leaned in a pecked his cheek. "Thank you, Carl." She said, examining the box closer. "It's beautiful."

"I chose the most neutral one they had."

She was about to tell him he had chosen perfectly, when they heard a crashing sound coming from the other side of the store. They froze in place. Michonne held a finger to her mouth, and vanished between the aisles, holding the handle of her katana. Beth and Carl stood next to each other straining to hear. Finally Michonne appeared around the end-cap of one of the aisles, with something squirming in her arms.

"Look what I found," she said, holding the little wiggling chocolate brown forms in her arms. Carl ran over to her and took one of them, and Beth stepped curiously across the basinet box he'd abandoned on the floor, trying to get a better look.

"Pups?" She asked, and Michonne nodded, handing one of the chubby little puppies to her.

"Walkers got to the mother, and the rest of the litter, but these two look okay."

The puppy Carl was holding was totally brown, and grunted a little, reaching his little head up to lick Carl's neck. "Oh..oh my God he's so cute. Can I keep 'im?" Carl asked Michonne hopefully.

"Her," Michonne corrected, "Can you keep her?"

Carl frowned, and lifted the puppy in the air. It tucked its tail between its legs and whined. Carl laughed. "So?"

He was asking the both of them. Beth held the other pup, and she noticed it was the same color as Carl's but with a tiny white spot on its back, and one white paw. Her pup was more docile than Carl's, and it tucked its tiny head into the curve of her inner elbow and promptly fell asleep.

"S'okay with me, if it's okay with your dad." Michonne told him.

"Aww, he'll say no." Carl said, frowning.

"Rick will take a little convincing," Beth added, "But I bet if we work on him together, we can get him to say yes."

Carl grinned at her. "You want that one?" He asked her.

She looked over at Michonne, a question in her eyes. Michonne shook her head. "I'm a cat person."

"Okay then," Beth said. She'd never had her own dog before, but she'd always wanted one. "Sure, if Daryl and Rick say yes, I'll take this little guy."

….

Twenty minutes later, they'd just finished packing the back of the Nissan with their booty, when Daryl and Rick drove back up in The Beast. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Michonne asked, as they climbed down.

Rick's eyes took in the brown bundles in Carl's and Beth's arms, and then he was shaking his head, a little smile tugging at his lips. "Think so."

"Yeah," Daryl said, coming around the back of the truck. "We got lucky."

"So did we," Beth added, pushing off the window she was leaning against to walk toward him with the pup.

"What ya got there, angel?" He asked her.

She held the pup out to him, and she had to laugh when his eyes widened. "That some kinda rat?" He asked.

"No, silly," she told him, "It's your new dog."

"My new what…" he looked caught off guard as she deposited the pup into the leather clad arms.

Beth wasn't sure what to expect. She'd seen her husband with babies, and horses, but she had no idea if he was dog person. Immediately, she realized he was. He started cooing, and talking to the dog, scratching it behind the ears, and laughed a little when the pup licked his face. "He's fuckin' cute."

Beth smiled, and with increased confidence – because Daryl obviously liked the dog – she turned to Rick. "Carl and I would like to keep these pups." Rick crossed his arms over his chest, shook his head and leaned against the Nissan.

"Down in a hole isn't the place for an animal like that." He said.

Carl met Rick's eyes. "They'll die out here."

Rick nodded, and looked over at Daryl. "What do you think?"

Daryl kissed the pup full on the mouth and raised him up in the air. "Think we got ourselves a pair of hunting dogs."

Rick inhaled deeply. "All right, but Carl that dog is your responsibility."

"Of course, dad."

"That means you're the one that has to get up with it in the morning, Son. And you'll have to take it all the way up them silo stairs so it can use the bathroom, more n once a day."

"Sure, dad, no problem," Carl said, laughing as the pup licked him again. Beth caught the look between Rick and Michonne. It almost made her laugh. It was the typical look a mother would give a father who just told their son he was going to have to be responsible for a pet. The look said you know it's going to be us taking care of that dog. Rick just smiled at her, closed the distance between them, and wrapped his arm around Michonne's shoulder, whispering something in her ear.

"We better stop back at the general store for some dog-food." Rick added, looking pleased with himself for making Carl happy.

….

As they drove home, with the little pup in a basket between them on the seat, Beth was thinking about how funny it was that their little family kept growing. "What should we call him?" She asked Daryl, who had been driving in silence for the last few minutes.

"It's a male right?" Daryl asked, removing one hand from the steering wheel to scratch the flea bag behind the ears.

"Uh-huh."

"How about Buckshot?"

She shook her head. She wasn't surprised he was suggesting a hunting type name, but Buckshot was an awful name for a dog, she thought. Keeping on that line of thinking, she made her own suggestion. "What about Colt?"

"Like Colt 45?" He asked, putting both hands back on the wheel.

She nodded. He glanced over at her. "Works for me," he said, pulling into the clearing ahead, where they would park the vehicles while they hunted. "No time like the present t' start teachin' him t' hunt." Daryl said, cutting the engine. "Come on, lil' Colt."

...

**A/N:** So there he goes. A dog for Daryl Dixon. I try. Puppies are awesome. Obviously I totally thought we needed a whole chapter devoted to them, so yeah…deal

Thanks for reading. Please review, if you are in a reviewing mood, in which case if you are I totally adore you. Nice for me to know if you love or hate dis little yarn. As always you guys are **rockstars**…!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. The story I tell about Daryl and Beth is my own invention, and it is not purported, or believed, to be part of the _Walking Dead_ story canon. It is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

….

"The dream crossed twilight between birth and dying."  
― T.S. Eliot

….

Chapter Twelve

Colt, now a pup that came to Daryl's knee, with shiny brown hair, and a lithe, muscular body shape, darted off into the woods. "Where is he going?" Beth asked, stopping for a second to listen for sounds of walkers. There weren't many left after the big freeze, but they were still around, and lately they'd seen a steady increase compared to the silence and tranquility of the dead of winter when the walkers were freezing to the ground.

"Caught the scent of sumthin'" Daryl said, stomping his cigarette butt out in the ground. They'd stopped for minute so Beth could catch her breath as they walked through the large field, in search of game.

"I don't like it when he runs off like that."

"You worry too much, woman. Smart dog, and he's fast." He hoisted the crossbow into the crook of his arm, and led the way in the direction Colt had gone, vanishing into the wood line.

Abraham caught up with them as they entered the woods. "That mutt of yours wandered off again?"

Daryl held up his fingers, and pointed into the forest, where a ray of light held a big buck standing before them. "Mutt just found your dinner." He whispered, kneeling down, to which they followed suit, concealing them behind a ridge. Daryl met Beth's eyes, and then he was quietly loading his crossbow. Beth felt something moist on her cheek.

"Colt," she whispered, welcoming the large pup with a hug. She held him in place by the scruff of the neck, watching – still utterly in awe with Daryl in his hunting moments – as he took aim toward the buck. Daryl fired, and the arrow penetrated the Bucks neck, coming through the other side. The majestic creature swayed for a moment, before his legs collapsed beneath him.

Abe let out a whoop, and Daryl gave a satisfactory grunt, reaching over to pet Colt, and meeting her eyes, seeing her smile, and touching her face for just a minute before he stood, and pulled her to her feet, briefly laying his warm hand on her round stomach. "Hope she's hungry for some venison."

Beth made a face. She'd been experiencing on-going morning sickness, but it wasn't only in the mornings. It could be triggered by smells, or even the mention of certain foods. It was strange all the things that she had to avoid now, unless she was willing to lose her lunch. Still, it had been at least a couple of weeks since she'd had anything but preserved meat, and the idea of a full meal made her mouth water. "I think we both are?" She said, smiling up at him, squinting as she stepped to into a small beam of sunlight.

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Oh, you never know with me these days." She followed the men over to the carcass.

Abe laughed, "That's usually the way it is…"

His comment was out of character for Abe, it was the kind of statement that made her want to ask about his past. "How the hell would you know?" Daryl crouched down, and pulled his bolt out of the deer. He stood, walking over to a nearby tree, and extracting his knife from his belt, he cut off a low hanging branch.

He looked up, waiting for Abe's answer, as Beth was. Daryl always had a way of just coming right out and asking stuff, he wasn't a man of social eloquence, and she loved that about him. He was honest, through and through. "My wife was nine months pregnant, when_ it_ happened, that's how."

Beth gave a little gasp, before covering her mouth.

Daryl stopped carving the branch – she studied what he was doing and realized he was sharpening it. "Damn, brother, that's a shame." Daryl said, biting down on his bottom lip. He remained still for a moment longer, his eyes darting over to meet hers, and then he was back to work on his stick. After a minute of awkward silence, while Abe passed around his canteen of water, Daryl held the stick up, gave a satisfactory nod, and knelt back down by the head of the deer. He used his knife, cut a precise slit in the cartilage in the deer's nose, and then punched the branch threw it. He picked his crossbow up, slid it over his shoulder, so the weapon came to rest on his back, and took up both sides of the branch, bending it so both ends were squeezed together in his large hand.

"We gonna stand around here all day?" He asked, gesturing irritably at the two of them.

Beth led the way out of the woods, and toward the silo. Abe took up the rear. Daryl gave a disgusted grunt, and she felt herself smiling at him as he drug through the deer through the brush behind her, stomping his feet. It wasn't much later that he stopped to pick up a stick and throw it for Colt, and she knew his irritation at them had seeped away.

….

"Are we going to have a big dinner, Aunt Beth?" Thin arms wrapped around Beth's waist where she was standing at the counter, apron on, peeling tiny new potatoes they had grown themselves on the next level down.

"Hi Mika," Beth said, turning to hug the little blond girl, who rested her cheek against Beth's belly. Every since the day Beth brought Mika the doll, they'd been spending a lot of time together. Mika loved to listen to Beth sing, saying it reminded her of her own mama singing to her. Beth was teaching Mika some of her favorite gospel hymns. "Yes, Daryl got a buck today." She answered, with a smile. She released Mika and went back to work on the potatoes. "You want to help?"

Mika smiled and nodded her head up and down. "That's good," Beth said with a small sigh. She put and hand on her back and stretched a little, "Because I think I could use a break."

Mika climbed up on the stool Beth provided her, and began peeling the potatoes with expert precision, humming something Beth didn't recognize under her breath. Carol had taught the girl how to do pretty much anything that needed done in the kitchen.

Daryl and most of the other adults were in a council meeting, and Beth was feeling apprehensive about the decisions that were going to be made during the meeting. Would the group decide it was best to try and move south, find an island to live on and try to regain a little sliver of the lives they had before the infection? Then there was the trip to Washington DC. Daryl wanted Beth to stay behind at the silo, while he went with Abe – and several of the others from the original group – to DC. Beth adamantly refused to go along with such a plan. So now Daryl was trying to convince the council to postpone the trip until after Beth had the baby. Beth had mixed feelings about both possibilities. The thought of going weeks – possibly months – without seeing him, without knowing if he was okay or not, was overwhelming, but the alternative meant Beth traveling during her last trimester, and probably their child being born on the way. It didn't seem practical so she was pretty sure the council would vote to postpone the trip until the baby came.

For some time, Beth had been working up the nerve to have a private conversation with Maggie about the DC trip. She wanted to ask if Maggie would be willing to be an adoptive mother to her child while she was gone to Washington, maybe forever if they didn't make it back. But Maggie hadn't been herself in months, preoccupied and withdrawn. Beth was certain Maggie was still grieving for their father, but she wasn't talking to anyone about it. She and Glenn were arguing a lot, and some nights Beth would get up for a midnight snack and find Glenn sleeping on the couch in the common room.

Beth knew they would also be discussing her labor which was the reason that Eugene wasn't cooking, and was actually attending the meeting – a first for him. He usually provided all the necessary information prior to the meetings, but stayed out of them himself. Today, he was explaining to the group everything he would require to ensure a safe delivery of the child. Maggie and Carol would assist him in the delivery. They wanted to be prepared for any possible complications – especially if she needed a c-section – so they'd been gathering equipment to supplement what was already in the medical room. A month earlier they had procured an ultrasound machine from a doctor's office. Eugene was able to see that the baby was healthy, and in the proper position. He'd offered to tell her the sex of the baby, but she'd declined.

Now that the residential area had been set up down on the next level, Beth and Daryl had moved back into her old room, and they were preparing the room he used to sleep in to be a nursery for the baby. "I think I'm going to go lay down for a few minutes," Beth told Mika, stifling a yawn.

"Go ahead. I can finish these." Mika stated proudly.

Beth patted the girl's head, grateful for the child's willingness to help, and wandered back to her room. She couldn't resist peeking into the little nursery. The basinet Carl had retrieved back when they found the pups was already set up against the far wall. They'd found a baby store and Beth had chosen pale lemon yellow as the main color for the room. She walked over to the diaper changing table, and flipped the switch on the machine that reflected tiny stars around the room, and played a lullaby. Beth curled up on the glider and watched the stars dance around the room until she dozed off.

….

A wave of pain jolted Beth from sleep. She touched her belly and cringed. Beth had experienced some Braxton and Hicks contractions when she'd entered her seventh month, and she took a deep breath, hoping that was all it was. She had no idea how long she'd been cuddled in the chair, but her shirt was drenched in sweat. She stood – a little shakily – and waddled into the other room. She was reaching for a t-shirt out of the dresser to change into when another pain ripped through her stomach and she doubled over, her eyes watering up. As soon as the pain ended, Beth felt moisture on her inner thighs. She looked down and saw blood staining her pants. She started to panic.

Beth threw the shirt on and steadied herself against the wall, trying to make it to the door of the bedroom, but the next pain made it impossible to stand. She sat on the floor, and rocked back and forth, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She knew she had to get up, but she barely had time to recover from the pain when another one came on. If she didn't make it out of her bedroom, didn't tell someone what was happening, she and the baby would probably die. Daryl, she thought. And as if he had heard her silent call, the door opened, and Daryl strode in looking worriedly around the room. He saw her on the floor, rushed to her side, scooping her into his arms. "I think its happening." She managed to get out between the pains.

"Gonna be okay. We're ready." She heard him say, her cheek resting against his flannel shirt, absorbing his comforting warmth.

Beth shook her head, cringing against another wave of pain, and it was a minute before she could speak. "Too early," she got out.

Daryl carried her to the common room, and she saw people rushing around, upon seeing her in his arms, their facial features blurred through her tears. "Get Gene and get him the fuck down to medical. Now." She heard Daryl yell, as he breezed past them.

A pain so intense that it felt like her spine was roasting shot through Beth, and she screamed. She felt her consciousness fading, slowly slipping away. The edges of everything were tipped with foggy clouds. She knew she had to tell him, now before she passed out entirely. "Daryl" she whispered through clenched teeth, as he stepped onto the elevator. She sensed others with them, but couldn't figure out who they were.

"Shhh, baby, it's gonna be fine."

"Daryl," she almost screamed again through another pain, "Daryl you have to listen to me."

Through misty vision she saw his stark blue eyes set on her own, wild almost with concern. "I'm listenin' angel."

"If you have to make a choice, you save her. Okay? Promise me."

He shook his head sternly, his features transforming into something between disapproval and anger. "No fuckin' way."

"Daryl please," she begged. Even in her disoriented state she felt the familiar panic over the disturbing images she'd had as they replayed in her mind's eye. Waking up, no longer pregnant, and her baby gone. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, and her chest ached at the thought that this could be her last moments with her living son or daughter. It was a vision Beth could not bear the thought of coming true. Better that she didn't wake up at all, than to outlive her own child. _His_ child.

"Godammit, Beth, don't talk like that. I aint losin' either of you. Ever."

"Please," she whispered, and then the pain erupted like a volcano in her belly, and it was all she could do to keep from squirming out of his arms.

She wasn't sure if she imagined him repeating himself, but she heard the words, "I aint losin' either of you ever," as everything faded to black.

….

Voices echoed in her mind. How long had it been? "She's losing blood." Someone said.

"Is that IV up?"

"Yes."

"Morphine drip?"

"It's started."

"See. Here's the problem."

The voices faded again.

….

_Beth was standing in a field of purple flowers, the sun sitting low in the sky, dancing off the blond waist high grass. A figure stepped into the light on a distant atoll, and – recognizing the man's shape - Beth's heart surged. She took off at a full run, "Daddy," she called, opening her arms for him. _

_Herschel held up a hand, palm out, giving her a warning look. "Don't touch me, Bethie." _

"_Why?" She cried, drawing to an abrupt stop, her arms craving to hug her father again. _

_He smiled lovingly, and held out his hands gesturing to a shimmering line on the ground between where they stood. "Because we exist in two different dimensions now, Beth. If you touch me, you might slip over to my side, and it isn't your time to come here yet." _

"_I have so much to tell you, daddy." _

"_I know," he said, before glancing down at the ground, and then back up at her, his eyes twinkling with a smile. "But not yet. You'll have plenty of time – a beautiful eternity – to tell me one day. Now you have to wake up." _

_Beth frowned, noticing heavy black clouds blotting out the sun behind her father. "Daddy?" She asked, as the edges of his form began to shine with light. "Daddy, don't leave." _

"_I'm sorry but I have to, sweetheart, because it's time for you to wake up." _

"_But…" she tried to walk toward him, but an invisible force clamping down on her, as if the hands of the dead had emerged from the earth and were holding her feet firmly in place. _

"_Wake up, and meet your son Bethie. You'll be such a good mother…" the words drifted off, as did the image of her father, crystallizing into a million tiny shimmering rainbow fragments, before they exploded into the sky above, like confetti, and then drifted away. _

….

Beth blinked. "Wake up, angel." A voice was saying, a rough voice laced with sorrowful thickness. "Need you to wake up now."

The light was so bright that she closed her eyes again. She felt paralyzed, and there was a faraway feeling of pain, nothing like she'd felt earlier, but a whispered memory of it. She felt something large, and warm on her hand. More warm things were on her feet, softly stroking them. The touch was comforting, and she found herself fading back into groggy nothingness.

Then Beth remembered. The baby. She swallowed, and her heart ached. The warmth on her hands and feet were hands, she established. There should be another kind of warmth in her arms, the warmth of a tiny life but her chest was cold, and she felt empty inside. The only warmth she felt was not the right kind. My baby, she thought, and sorrow gripped her chest. "Daryl, look." A familiar female voice said.

Beth forced herself to blink again. A gruff voice answered, right next to her ear. "She's wakin' up. Beth, can you hear me?"

Beth raised her arm, trying to cover her eyes from the bright lights, and felt a strange tugging. She glanced at her right upper appendage, and saw it was hooked up to clear tubing. She looked left and her eyes beheld the most beautiful sight they had ever seen. Daryl, was standing over her, one hand was holding hers and there was a blanketed bundle crooked snuggly in his other arm.

Beth gasped, and fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. Daryl looked like an angel, like homecoming, like the promise of an eternity of tomorrows. "I want you to meet someone." He said, kneeling down. Beth opened her arms, ignoring the sting in her hand as she tugged on the IV needle. "Beth Dixon, meet your son." He said, placing the bundle in her arms.

Son? Beth thought, as she accepted the warm bundle in her arms. The only part of him that showed through the snuggly swaddled blanket was his face, and one tiny fist he had in his cherry red mouth. His skin was clean and pink, his chubby cheeks were red, and his bright eyes were the color of a robin's egg. He had a tuft of dark brown hair, and identical color to his fathers. "He's okay?" She asked, speaking for the first time, her voice hoarse.

Daryl nodded. She looked around the room. Maggie was standing at the foot of her bed, holding her feet. So she had been the one rubbing them. Her face was happy, tired but happy, for the first time in a long time. "I saw daddy," Beth told her.

Maggie gave her a confused look, and Beth saw her sister glance over at Daryl. Beth's eyes were drawn back down to the infant in her arms. She carefully unwrapped the swaddling, and inspected the tiny perfect dimpled hands, chubby little arms, a round belly and legs no wider than his daddy's fingers. "Gene says he's a little underweight. Six pounds one ounce, but otherwise he's healthy." Maggie told Beth.

"Probably shouldn't have got you out today." Daryl added, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at her.

"He's here, and he's healthy. That's all that matters. You couldn't have known she'd go into early labor." Maggie said, and Beth wasn't so loopy that she didn't raise an eyebrow at her sister. Maggie wasn't prone to comforting Daryl. Usually she was blaming him for everything. Beth watched her sister closely, and wondered if she was seeing a newfound respect in the way Maggie looked at Daryl.

"What happened?" Beth asked.

Maggie and Daryl both looked at her. Daryl nodded at Maggie, who inhaled deeply and said. "Eugene did a c-section. Daryl helped."

"You helped?" Beth croaked, half absorbed in the weight in her arms, and half in the conversation.

Daryl gave a little nod, biting his lip. "He took the baby out when I couldn't." Maggie asserted, her voice full of checked emotion. "He saved both of your lives."

Beth blinked back fresh tears. She looked up at her husband. "I love you." She told him, "thank you."

He shook his head, and looked uncomfortable. "Boy needs a name." He pointed out, his gaze falling on their little son, and softening.

"Well we aint callin' him asskicker two." Maggie joked.

Daryl shrugged and shifted from one foot to the other restlessly. "You choose," Beth told him, "You know the names I like."

He met her eyes. "Noah William?" Daryl said softly, and he reached down and stroked the boy's cheek, with such gentleness that Beth felt her heart swell. He'd chosen William because that had been her father's middle name. She had a brief memory of the dream she'd had about her daddy. She closed her eyes, feeling tears squeeze through, and said a silent thank you to her daddy for sending her back, for telling her to wake up.

"Noah William Dixon." Beth agreed, covering the baby with the blanket.

"Oh Lord, another Dixon," Maggie teased. Daryl tensed, but Maggie continued, a smile on her face. "But it's a good, strong name."

Daryl ignored Maggie, and knelt over the baby, planting a kiss on Beth's forehead. "He's probably hungry." He noted, glancing up at Maggie.

"That's my cue," Maggie said, "but I'll be back soon to hold my nephew. Daryl's hogged him this whole time."

….

"Early ambulation is very helpful in terms of promoting healing," Gene reassured them. "She should walk. No need to use the stretcher."

"No. I'll carry her." Daryl growled, stubbornly sticking to his reluctance for Beth to make the trip – on her own two feet – to their rooms upstairs. "Ya just cut her open two days ago."

Eugene rolled his eyes. "Is he always right?" He asked Beth. She bit her lip, trying not to giggle.

"I'll walk. You hold Noah." She said, waving off Daryl's movement to stop her. "Gene's right. I want to heal fast. I'm missing training, and I want to be in shape for the trip. It'll be okay, silly." She told Daryl, holding the baby up for him to take.

Never refusing an opportunity to hold his son, Daryl gently took the boy and cradled him in his leather jacketed sleeve, then reached down and slid his other arm under her shoulders, and helped her gently out of the bed. "Just hold on to me, 'till you're steady." At first the feeling of her feet touching the floor for the first time in three days was wondrous, but then she tried to hold her weight, and collapsed, Daryl the only thing holding her upright.

"It feels like my ab muscles are gone!" She told Eugene who helped Daryl lower her into a wheelchair.

"That's partly the morphine still in your system, and partly because you haven't used them for three days."

It was a slow procession to the elevator, and then up to the main floor, with Daryl pushing her with one hand, and holding Noah with the other. The smell when she stepped into the hallway was delicious. "What is that?" She asked, inhaling deeply through her nose.

"Chocolate cake," Tara called from the kitchen. "We thought we could have a little birthday celebration for…ohhh" she had turned around mid-sentence, and saw Daryl holding the baby. "Can I hold him? I haven't held him yet."

"Me first," Rosita insisted, emerging from behind a magazine in one of the overstuffed chairs.

Best felt Daryl's whole body tense up. "Aint good t' pass a baby around the first few days. Bad for the immune system."

Both girls groaned in displeasure. "Maggie said you were hoggin' him." Tara pointed out, turning back to the kitchen counter. Beth laughed at Daryl's obvious discomfort.

"Aint gonna hurt to let them hold him for a minute." She told him, entertained by his over protectiveness. "Besides we passed Judith around constantly, and she was the healthiest baby ever."

Daryl sighed wearily, and helped Beth over to her favorite chair. Once he ensured she was comfortable, he wrapped both arms around Noah, and strode – almost cautiously – over to Rosi. "He's gonna be hungry soon."

Rosita rolled her eyes at Daryl, taking the baby and sitting down across from Beth. "Oh my god he looks like his father. "

Tara came over to stand behind Rosi's chair. "But he's got Beth's nose, and her mouth I think."

Beth's chest swelled with pride. "He gained a pound while we were down there."

"A healthy boy."

Daryl leaned down on the arm of Beth's chair, placing his hand on the back of her neck. "'its cause he's breast feedin.'" He explained.

"Daryl, I would have never pegged you as being a supporter of breast feeding."

"Why? It's the best thing for him, aint it?"

"It sure is, but it's pretty damn painful too," Beth complained. Just talking about it was making her breasts ache. "Better pass him to Tara, Rose, it's getting to be dinner time."

Rosita laughed as Beth adjusted in her seat. "So, Daryl tells me we leave for DC in six weeks." Beth said, not wanting to be that new mom who talks constantly about her baby and nothing else.

Rosita handed Tara the baby, and looked sharply at Beth. "We?"

Beth frowned. "Um, yeah."

"You're coming with us?"

"Of course I am." Beth said, cocking her head.

"What about the baby?"

Beth swallowed, and she felt Daryl squeeze the back of her neck ever so slightly. "We're leaving him with Maggie. She'll take good care of him."

Rosita shook her head, leaning forward, and putting both forearms on her knees. "Are you sure you want to do that? Aren't there enough orphans around here already?"

"We made you a promise." Beth said, watching Tara rock back and forth with little Noah in her arms.

Rosita smiled. "We don't need you, Beth. Just him." She nodded at Daryl.

"Well he isn't going without me." Beth said, looking up at Daryl also, "Right?"

Daryl bit his lip, playing with her hair and avoiding her eyes. "Daryl?" She said, reaching up to touch his other hand which was resting in his lap.

"She has a point. Don't seem right to leave him. Don't know for sure what happens out there."

Beth felt a surge of anger something akin to the old rages she used to get over the Governor. She grabbed the arm of the couch and pushed herself out of the chair, grimacing at the soreness in her abdomen. Daryl tried to help her and she shooed his hand away. With one last glare at Rosi and Daryl, Beth slowly made her way out of the room, feeling their eyes on her, but unwilling to turn and look at them.

….

After she got over her anger at Daryl, and realized she was going to have plenty of time to argue the point about her going or not going to DC, Beth spent two blissful days with both her boys in bed.

They got to the point where she would lay on her side, with Daryl spooning her propped up on an elbow so they could both watch Noah, who loved to curl up and snuggle next to Beth's stomach, sleep. When it was time for the baby to eat, Daryl would reach around and rub the babies back as he nursed. Beth sang him songs, and the three of them would doze for an hour or two here and there, on and off. Occasionally someone would bring a tray of food for the two adults, and hold the baby on the couch, while they ate.

Noah rarely cried because both of his parents were right there to service his needs at the first sign that he had them. Eugene checked on Beth twice a day, and they had a few visitors but for the most part the rest of the silo respected their privacy, and their choice to bond with their son alone for the first few days.

"Think if ya sing t' him, he'll pass out." Daryl suggested. Noah's tiny right hand was curled around Daryl's large index finger.

"You just want me to sing you to sleep again."

He smiled, and put an arm up under his head, careful not to stir the drowsy baby lying between them. "Naw, it's for him, go on." He told her, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes.

"Sure…" she said, drawing out the word. "Hmm…how about a lullaby."

"Whatever. It all sounds good to me…I mean him." Daryl said, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

She laughed.

The song came to her as they always did – instantly and without any thought put into it - except this was one she hadn't sang in a long time. She wished she had thought to sing it to Noah while she was pregnant with him, as she had so many other songs.

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, _

_Go to sleepy little baby. _

_When you wake, you'll have cake, _

_And all the pretty little horses. _

_Blacks and bays, dapples and greys, _

_Coach and six-a-little horses, _

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, _

_Go to sleepy little baby. _

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, _

_Go to sleepy little baby. _

_When you wake, you'll have cake, _

_And all the pretty little horses. _

She stopped, and Daryl sat up – alert- as they heard boots coming down the hallway outside their room, and someone stopped in front of the door and knocked quietly. The baby twitched in his sleep, and started fussing. "What the hell?" Daryl said, climbing off the bed fully clothed. He went over to the door, and wrenched it open, obviously ready to spew a fountain of explicatives at the person who dared to interrupt them so loudly – knowing a baby was within – but she never heard the cussing start.

Daryl stepped back, holding the door open and Rick entered the room, holding his hat in his hands, an assault rifle slung over his shoulder, and his handgun in the holster at his waist. His beard was full still, and he managed a weak smile at Beth before he looked down at his hat again. "I hate to interrupt you." He said, looking up at Daryl, "But we've got a problem."

Daryl nodded and went to the closet, retrieving his crossbow. "What is it, Rick?" Beth whispered, leaning up in bed.

Rick attempted to smile reassuringly at her again, but she knew him well enough to see that he was troubled. "Tyreese was on watch upstairs. Came down to tell me we got our first herd coming through above. "

"So the fuck what?" Daryl said, strapping on his belt. "We stay tucked down here and they'll pass right by us in a day or two."

Rick shook his head, "Got people up there, on a run."

Beth's heart thumped in her chest. If their people, whoever was up there, tried to come back to the silo when a herd was traveling through, they could be overrun. "Who?" She asked, her voice cracking, and her palms tingling.

Rick shifted his weight, and gave her meaningful look. "Sasha, Glenn, Carl, Maggie and Rosita."

"Where were they headed?" Daryl asked.

"They were going to clear the rest of that ammo out of the gun-shop before someone else got their hands on it."

Beth felt like she might pass out. "Don't go gettin' all stressed. He can feel that," Daryl said, coming to stand over the bed, and carefully stroking his son's downy brown hair. "Our people are smart, they're armed, they'll be fine. We going to clear a path?" He asked, turning to Rick.

Rick acknowledged Daryl's question with a half-hearted nod. Beth had the sneaking suspicion that Rick wasn't telling them something, or maybe he was waiting to tell Daryl when they were out of the room.

"I'll be back in a little bit. Don' worry too much, all right?" He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers, before bending even further to kiss Noah's forehead.

"I love you," she told him, "come back to me in one piece."

He stood straight and his eyes lingered on hers for a full fifteen seconds before he spoke. "I'll take the next watch with him when I get back so you can get some sleep," he offered, but the look said something else. It said_, I love you too._

….

She woke to the sound of Noah crying. It was a sound she was strangely unfamiliar with since he did it so rarely. "There, there," she comforted, getting the little guy into feeding position. He latched on happily, and his bright eyes opened, and she felt like he was trying to focus on her face. "Hi, little man," she whispered, wiping a little drip of milk off his cheek.

Beth laid back and let Noah nurse, wondering how long Daryl had been gone. The lights were on in the room which meant it was before ten p.m. when they almost always turned the generators off. After seven minutes or so went by she switched Noah to the other side, and felt her eyes getting heavy. This was usually the point where she fell asleep, knowing the baby would do the same when he was full. But something was tugging at the back of the Beth's mind, and her pulse was speeding up thinking about it. Rick was obviously hiding something earlier. Was there more danger than he was letting on? She decided it was worth getting up to talk to anyone who was awake and see if she could find out anything else about what was happening on the surface.

Once Noah fell back asleep she carried him to his basinet and tucked him inside, covering him with a blanket. It was the first time she'd put him in the baby bed, and she had to stand there for a minute, and watch him sleep peacefully, his chubby fists cuddled to his face.

Beth reluctantly drew away from her sleeping son, and went back into her adjourning room, grabbing a robe, and remembering to stop and run a brush through her hair. She grabbed the baby monitor, ensured it was working properly, then left her bedroom, keeping the door slightly ajar, and puttered down the hall, toward the common room.

Walking still felt odd to Beth. Though she was able to hold her own weight up – after practicing a little the last couple days – she was still very unsteady, and it still felt there was an empty chasm where her abdominal muscles should be. The pain was minimal, and reminded her a little of the soreness she felt the day after a really intense work-out. She realized, as she rounded the bend to the common room, that walking was actually making her muscles feel better, almost as if her body needed to work through the pain. Carol, two women that they had rescued from Terminus, and Mika were sitting in the living room. Tara and Eugene were in the kitchen. Gene looked up at Beth as she slowly made her way into the living room, running her hand along the natural stone jutting out of the silo wall to help balance. "Well look who is up and around," Tara said, wiping her hands on her apron and rushing over to help Beth to a chair. "The baby must be sleeping."

Beth held up the monitor. "I'll be listening for him. How long has Rick's party been out?"

Tara made a strange face, and Beth noticed her look up and meet Carol's eyes. Carol's conversation with the other women in the room had drawn to a close when Beth sat down. She smiled at the older woman, feeling the usual warm affection she always felt for Carol, but also the woman's sense of self-preservation which gave her a bit of an edge.

Tara made a show of looking at her watch, and her eyes looked a little unsure. "What's going on?" Beth demanded.

Eugene came into the living room. "They've been gone two hours two long. Tyreese radioed down an hour ago, said he was going to look for them. That's the last we heard."

Beth felt a strange mixture of adrenaline, and fear coursing through her veins. "Somethin' aint right then," she said, "Who do we have left down here?"

Carol shrugged. "You're looking at us."

Beth swallowed. "And no one's up on watch?"

"I'm sure everything's fine," Carol said, smiling down at Mika who was coloring.

Beth looked up at Gene, a silent question in her eyes. Gene gave a little nod. "The likelihood that they have encountered a problem is very high, especially with no report back from Tyreese. I recommend we send out a rescue party."

Tara crossed her arms over her chest, and Carol leaned back in the couch. "Let's give them one more hour. I mean, who can go, Eugene? Abraham would have our hides if you went."

"I'll go," Tara said.

Carol smiled. "Not by yourself."

"You'll come with me then, and you two." Tara said, waving at Angela and Katelyn – blond sisters who were recovered out of the same box-car as Carol. They were twins, eighteen years old.

Carol opened her mouth up to speak, but Beth spoke first. "Carol will stay with Mika, Judith and Noah. I'll go with you."

"Impossible," Eugene argued, "You just had a c-section five days ago, Beth."

"Besides," Carol added, "I'd rather deal with Abe over sending Gene here. Daryl would probably kill us all."

"I think you all are making the mistake of thinking you have anything to say about what I do or don't do. I'm an adult, a married woman, and I'll do as I damn well please. "Beth told them, forcing herself to stand without using the chair as support. She turned to Tara, "Be ready in fifty five minutes." She left the room, able to move faster and steadier now because of the surges of adrenaline rushing through her. She refused to lose Daryl, or to sit for hours waiting, and not knowing. There was a knock at her door, and she went to it. Eugene was standing in the hallway with a box tucked under his arm, and a crooked smile on his face.

….

Twenty five minutes later, Beth was wearing the reinforced abdominal support Eugene had requested Rosi pick up on one of the recent runs. The gear made her feel like she had a midsection again. The morphine needles and vials he had given her would allow her to search for the others without being in pain. He showed her – with the first injection – how little of a dose she should take to still be able to function, and told her how to time the injections apart.

They were loading her supplies in a backpack when Noah started fussing. "Oh shit," Beth said, unconciounsly touching her swollen breasts. Carol stepped into the room.

"I heard him crying on the monitor." The short-haired woman gave Beth a warm smile. She was holding a box wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. She saw Beth looking curiously at the box. "Oh this. Yes, this was supposed to be your shower present, but you had him early. I thought you could use it at a time like this. Daryl actually picked it up for me. Beth," she said, coming to stand next to Beth. "I'm sorry, I sometimes still remember you as scrawny little Beth Greene singing songs, and writing in a journal. You are a grown woman, and part of being grown is making your own choices. May I?" She asked, pointing toward Noah's door.

Beth smiled, "Thanks, Carol." She said, accepting the present the woman handed her on the way to the nursery. Beth ripped open the package – secretly thrilled it had been so long since she'd opened a real present – and laughed. It was a breast pump, bottles, and pads. She squeezed the box to her chest and excused herself into the bathroom, where she spent twenty minutes trying to figure out how to pump, and then pumping seven bottles – what she hoped would be enough. She knew Eugene had stocked baby formula in the kitchen, but she hoped they wouldn't have to use it. Not this soon. Daryl wouldn't be pleased.

_Who I am kidding_, she thought, _look what I'm getting ready to do?_ _Daryl is going to be so pissed._

While Eugene, Mika, and Carol fussed over Noah, Beth took her katana out of the case above the bookshelf, where she kept it when she wasn't using it regularly. She was worried the blade would feel foreign to her after getting very little use over the last few months, but instead she felt as if the sword was a part of herself that she'd been terribly missing all along. She slid it into place, and fished her gun and holster out of the dresser drawer. Her belt didn't fit around her waist, even with the ab support, so she tucked her gun into the back of her pants, and went over to the couch, kneeling in front of Carol who held Noah in her lap, trying not to look like the motion hurt. She leaned in and kissed her baby's forehead, rubbing her cheek softly against his soft brown hair. "I love you, Noah." She whispered.

Beth pulled something out of her vest pocket and handed it to Carol. "What's this?" The older woman asked.

"It's a letter I wrote to him for if anything ever happens to me. With the trip to DC coming up, I just wanted him to know…in case…"

Carol nodded, sliding the letter into her apron pocket. "I understand completely. Come back safe, Beth."

"I will."

Beth felt unexpected warmth wetness on her eyelids as she straightened, cringing a little from a slight twitch of pain, and walked away from her son. She prayed she was making the right choice.

Beth knew, though, that she couldn't live in a world without Daryl Dixon. If the tables were turned, she knew he would come looking for her. That was what they did for each other, it was how a marriage worked these days. You relied on your partner for so much more than as a bread-winner, or someone to play catch with the kids. Beth relied on Daryl to survive, to live, and he was going to have to rely on her as well, whether he liked it or not.

Beth joined Tara, Angela, and Katelyn, all fully armed, at the door to the stairwell. "Everyone ready?" She asked, casually leaning against the wall so she didn't look like she was using it to steady herself.

"I brought grenades," Angela said, gesturing to her backpack.

Beth smiled. "Great. Those may come in handy."

They entered the stairwell, and Beth began her most painful ascent to the top ever.

….

A/N: I have to apologize because my usual betareader is in Australia right now and couldn't pre-read this for me. So, as a last resort, I edited this chapter myself. Hope you still were able to enjoy. Would love to hear any feedback.


End file.
